


Inexorable

by alienheartattack (Sanneke)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanneke/pseuds/alienheartattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on Tumblr: single mom Mikasa meets rich, successful businessman Levi. Levi's new secretary keeps bringing her baby daughter to work, but the most annoying thing about that is that he doesn't seem to mind all that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There is a baby by the new secretary’s desk.

Levi Ackerman cannot remember the last time he saw a baby in person. His boss keeps showing him pictures of his ever-growing brood — an unruly-looking mob of blond children with wild bespectacled eyes — but he has thankfully managed to avoid having to encounter the brats in real life. The same cannot be said for the occupant of the playpen five feet in front of him, who is currently sucking her thumb and sleeping peacefully.

 _For now,_ Levi thinks. _Soon she’ll be screaming and shitting and doing whatever else it is that babies do._

“I’m so sorry,” his secretary says as she steps into the waiting room from his office, her eyes wide as she sees her boss standing there, glaring at her child. “Hana has a fever but I can’t find anyone to watch her.”

“Is that yours, Mikasa?” he asks, annoyance and mild disgust creeping into his tone.

A frown darkens Mikasa’s features for a second before disappearing into the placid non-expression she usually wears. “She’s my daughter, yes.”

Levi snorts. “I wasn’t aware you had one. A kid, that is.” He watches the muscles in his secretary’s jaw tighten, release, tighten, release.

“I showed you a picture of her last week,” Mikasa finally says. If Levi acknowledges her words, she cannot tell.

“Is she contagious?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“No, but—”

He ends the conversation the way he has ended every conversation they have had since she started working there: by walking away when there is so much more left to be said.

* * *

Making tea is not one of Mikasa’s duties but, like clockwork, she brings Levi a steaming cup of Earl Grey with the tiniest splash of almond milk and one Splenda at ten-thirty and two-thirty, then one more at five if he is working late. He prefers when she brings him his tea in the evening; she gets ready to go home while the tea steeps and brings it to him with her coat on, a crimson scarf nestled between the collar of her pea coat and the pale curve of her jawline. It is comforting, somehow, to be reminded of the fact that Mikasa has a life outside of this office when it feels like he lives here. (He hopes he has not seen the pillow and blanket he has stashed in his desk. She has already seen his toiletries case, but hopefully has come to the correct though erroneous conclusion that he keeps it in his top right drawer because he is fastidious about his personal hygiene.)

One day two months after Mikasa starts working for him, she brings him his five o'clock tea wearing her usual coat and scarf with the addition of a red and black plaid hunting cap, her dark hair covered by the thick earflaps. The sight is so ridiculous that he smiles at her for a moment instead of giving her his usual curt nod and grunt.

After she leaves, he puts his head down, hitting his forehead against the desk. He may as well have just exposed his belly and told her to go in for the kill. His previous secretaries have never seen him smile.

* * *

“You can’t bring her back here,” the daycare owner tells her. “She screams and cries all day for you.” She glares at Mikasa, her narrowed gaze saying everything her lips do not: _You must have done this to her._

“I thought she was getting better,” Mikasa replies, her mouth pursing with worry. Hana whimpers in her arms, her green eyes red-rimmed and teary.

“It comes and goes, but lately it’s been worse than ever. It’s disturbing the other children. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep her around when she’s this disruptive.”

Mikasa cannot think of anything else to say, so she bids the woman goodbye and walks to her car, her breath coming out in short huffs of vapor as she walks. Hana chatters happily to herself as she rests her head against her mother’s shoulder, poking at the earflap of her hat with one mittened hand. It has been like this since Mikasa started working for Levi: Hana is her usual bubbly self in the morning, then quiet on the car ride to daycare, then a shrieking banshee until her mother comes to retrieve her again at five-thirty.

Hana has never screamed like that for Mikasa. Not once.

That night, after Mikasa finishes wiping spaghetti sauce from Hana’s chubby cheeks, the baby says her first real word after months of babbling gibberish: “Dada.”

Mikasa inhales sharply, her eyes watering at the sound of the two syllables. “Good girl!” she chirps. She hopes that Hana is too young to detect the quaver in her voice. “Can you say Mama? Maaa-maaa?”

“Dada!” Hana yells, her mouth stretched into a gummy smile. “Dada! Dada!”

“Yes, Hana,” Mikasa replies, picking up her child and holding her close. “Dada’s coming home soon.”

* * *

She sits tautly, spine ramrod-straight in her chair as she waits for Levi to arrive at work the next day. Hana sits on the floor next to her desk, stacking blocks and then knocking them over, alerting her mother to what she has done by squealing and babbling delightedly. Mikasa sighs and hopes that she will still have a job by five o'clock.

Levi is a difficult boss, utterly exacting to the point where he is cruel more often than not, prizing the quality of his work over anything as inconsequential as manners or tact. He has gone through three secretaries in two years. But he recognizes her when she does well and coaches her — if barking at her counts as coaching, but his words are helpful even when they are flung at her with utter contempt — and her paychecks seem much higher than the salary he initially quoted for her, so she stays. In a few months she will be able to move herself and Hana to a nicer apartment in a better neighborhood. If she stays for a year, she will be able to buy a new car, one that doesn’t rattle ominously when she drives it faster than fifty miles per hour.

The money and the prestige are worth the hassle of spending eight hours a day with this petty tyrant, this Napoleon. He can be so unpleasant it is easy to forget that his standards, punishing though they are, are the reason he’s the best. Levi Ackerman can negotiate contracts with suppliers and subsidiaries, can persuade even the most intractable clients to do multimillion-dollar business with Smith and Company. In the boardroom his brusqueness comes off as cool confidence, his crudeness as straight-shooting directness. He berates investors with facts and figures until they cannot help but acquiesce to whatever plan he proposes, and then they thank him for the privilege.

Mikasa got to see him in action once. She left the boardroom ready to follow Levi to the ends of the earth, even as she was disgusted at how he treated a room full of CEOs like they were idiots.

She is so lost in her thoughts that she does not notice Levi emerging from the door of his private office; he has been in there since before she arrived, apparently. “What is that?” he asks, pointing at the scattered blocks on the floor. Hana looks up at him and smiles, then offers him a block in one small outstretched hand. Levi narrows his eyes at her.

“Hana was having separation anxiety at daycare. Yesterday she was asked not to come back. I’ll get her in a new place soon, but until then I need to bring her here. I’m sorry.” Her words come out rushed even as her gaze is steady, unwavering, directed at the cold steel of his eyes.

His response is terse, as usual: “Find someone to watch her until you find a new daycare.”

At that Mikasa’s resolve breaks and her eyes flicker down to her hands, which rest against the top of her desk. “I don’t have anyone to watch her,” she mumbles.

“Dad not in the picture?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why doesn’t her dad step in?” Levi asks slowly, as though she cannot comprehend his words.

She hesitates, then trots out the line she has rehearsed so many times in the bathroom mirror: “Hana’s father is out of the country.”

“Military?”

Another pause, shorter this time. “Personal reasons.”

“While you’re working and taking care of the kid on your own? Sounds like a real asshole,” he scoffs.

Levi walks away from her then, back into his office. He doesn’t hear her say, “I know he is, but I still love him.”

* * *

As Levi is preparing to leave the office one night, two hours after he initially intended, something catches his eye as he walks by Mikasa’s empty desk. It is a photograph encased in plastic, a grinning Mikasa (a novel sight — at best she will curve her lips at him, reserving the show of her teeth for the baby) cradling Hana in her arms. Sitting next to them, with one arm draped lightly over her shoulders, is the father. He’s a young looking guy, younger-seeming than Mikasa even, with a deep tan and green eyes that sparkle with mischief, even captured on celluloid and trapped in lucite. The guy is smiling, but Levi can detect a slight strain around the corners of his mouth.

Or maybe not. Maybe he is projecting. He already hates the guy for not doing right by his girlfriend (he assumes; he has not seen a ring on the secretary’s finger) and his child. Mikasa had said the guy was abroad due to “personal reasons,” but he tries to think of something that would necessitate such a long absence — family issues, for sure, but why would she not say that? — and comes up empty. Maybe a drug problem, but he’s not sure why someone would skip the country to go to rehab when he’s got a baby to take care of.

No, he decides. He definitely hates this guy.

Levi picks up the picture to get a better look. It is heavier than it looks and clinks as he lifts it: the picture is a keychain, attached to a heavy ring of keys. He inspects them, silver and brass topped with color-coded rings of plastic. His lips purse into a small smile; of course Mikasa organizes her keys.

But these look like house keys, and it has been a frigid winter. The thought of the secretary and the baby, pale and shivering from the cold, makes his guts twist in a curiously unfamiliar way. After he slips the keys into the right front pocket of his trousers, scowling a bit when he notices how they deform his slim silhouette with their bulk, Levi goes back into his office and pulls up the company’s intranet so he can search for Mikasa’s contact information.

As the cursor of his mouse hovers over a box in which he is supposed to input her last name, he realizes he doesn’t actually know it. So he just types “Mikasa” in the box where her first name goes (first misspelling it as Melissa for some reason, then Mikassa) and prays that Erwin has paid the IT guys enough to make the damn thing actually work. After a few interminable seconds, a pop-up window appears.

_One result found: ACKERMAN, MIKASA_

Levi snorts. “Go fucking figure.” He wonders whether anyone has suggested that her hiring was the result of nepotism, or whether Erwin hires employees who can understand that two people sharing a last name does not a relation make. He wonders whether his subordinates would even have the balls to speak about him in such a way amongst themselves, let alone to his face.

He reads through the file, which has her personnel photo (again, a smile with teeth; perhaps she only reserves them for people who are not him), her cell phone number, and her address.

Sighing deeply, he picks up the phone that sits on his desk and punches in her number.

“Levi?” she asks before he can say hello. She sounds confused, perhaps a little perturbed. He barely speaks to her unless it is absolutely necessary; a phone call after hours is unheard of.

“Yeah, it’s me. I think you left your keys here.”

“Oh thank god,” she sighs. “I thought I dropped them. I’ll run right back to the office and grab them.”

“No, don’t trouble yourself,” he says gruffly, shaking his head. “I’ll drop them off for you.”

“You sure? I don’t live in, uh, such a great neighborhood. A guy dressed like you is going to get mugged.” Through the phone, Levi can hear the faint tinny whine of an ambulance siren.

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself,” he tells her, then hangs up without saying goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, Levi realizes Mikasa was being diplomatic when she said she didn’t live in such a great neighborhood. The streetlights that aren’t broken are either dim or flickering. Ghosts of abandoned brick-front factories line the streets before the landscape shifts to squat clapboard houses, rusted siding, shattered windows, broken concrete. Each corner, it seems, is marked by at least one figure in black: men snugly bundled into hoodies, women shivering in short dresses and thin stockings. Levi can imagine the overlapping low patter of their pitches: _Want weed? Want coke? Want Percs? Benzos? Oxies? Want a date? Wanna have some fun? I got what you want. I got what you need._

Levi knows it all too well. He is older, but not so far removed from his wayward impoverished youth that he can forget these things. That same knowledge makes him clench his hands around the steering wheel of his car as he cruises toward Mikasa’s street. He wonders whether his tires will get slashed or whether his windows will be broken or whether the sleek black sedan will simply not be there once he has returned Mikasa’s keys.

His GPS soon announces that he has arrived at his destination: a crumbling tan brick building with a faded sign that may have said “TROST ARMS” in a past life. Judging from the intercom and the rows upon rows of buzzers next to the door, Mikasa has to buzz him in. Levi stands there for a moment, his finger hovering over the buzzer labeled “M. ACKERMAN, 104” when he realizes the front door has been propped open with a cinderblock. Before he goes in the building, he fumbles around in his coat pocket for his key fob, then arms his car alarm for the fifth time.

The combination of smells in the building — mildew, heavily spiced food, the piercing smell of bleach, the muzzy sweetness of faded stale cigarette smoke, and, beneath it all, the smell of dozens of living bodies crammed on top of one another — takes him back for a moment to every shitty apartment he’s ever lived in, every dimly lit hall he ran down because it was too unsafe to go outside. Levi’s breath stops dead in his lungs and he involuntarily hunches over, bracing himself as the memories overwhelm him: being yelled at by Mrs. Church for playing basketball in the lobby, the fights and fucking he could hear through the thin walls, the girl in 6A who let him kiss her once, the sad skinny frill of tinsel around the apartment door each Christmas. (Of course, his mom’s interchangeable boyfriend of the moment always had enough money for a couple of cases of piss beer and, when he was seven, a mistletoe belt buckle which he could tell was terribly distasteful even then, but they would never allow him the extravagance of a single strand of icicle lights.)

He stands up straight, tries to swallow away the lump that has formed in his throat. That Levi is dead. That Levi is dead for a very good reason, he tells himself.

Mikasa’s door is at the end of the hall on the first floor. It is easy to spot: she is crouched outside of it, trying to pick the lock with what looks to be a small screwdriver. Hana crawls around on the floor, occasionally lifting one pudgy hand to tug at her mother’s clothing. She lets out a whine, unused to being ignored by her mother for so long.

“Hana, stop,” Mikasa scolds her, eliciting a louder cry from the baby.

“You know you don’t need to do that,” Levi says as he walks up to them.

Mikasa jumps at the sound of his voice, then puts the screwdriver in her purse before she looks up and acknowledges his presence. “I got a little impatient,” she admits with a shrug.

Levi lifts one corner of his mouth at her. She is tenacious; he will give her that. He reaches into his pocket and produces her keys, then hands them to her. Mikasa gathers her things and gets up, then picks up Hana, who looks to be on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong, Hana Banahna?” she coos. Hana starts to whimper; Levi turns away and frowns, not sure how he will react if the little brat starts to cry. Mikasa holds the baby close and takes a deep whiff. “Someone needs a diaper change,” she says with a grimace. She unlocks the door and goes in, then waits for Levi to follow. “You can hang out in the living room. I’ll be five minutes.”

Levi nods and waits for Mikasa to leave the room before he wrinkles his nose in disgust. Until now he has managed to avoid the more unpleasant biological aspects of the child who still takes up residence in his office. Mikasa claims that Hana’s new daycare will only take her for three days each week and no more, and he cannot bring himself to turn the girl away. It seems almost Dickensian and although he has never considered himself a good person, he also would not like to think himself an unfeeling monster who throws fatherless children into the street. He has managed to ignore the baby thus far, but once in a while she fixes him with those curious green eyes of hers and just stares at him. Most of all, he does not like that passers-by are encouraged to visit and visitors are persuaded to stay when they see the chubby-cheeked little girl quietly stacking her blocks, knocking them over, and stacking them again.

Levi flops down on a threadbare couch covered with an afghan, shades of red yarn gnarled together to form a light quilt. Mikasa’s living room is cozy, despite its small size and its hallmarks of low-rent living: cracks in the walls, a brown water stain on the ceiling, worn carpet coming loose in the corners of the room. The walls are covered in pictures of beaches and mountains and deserts that she has cut out of magazines. Above the small television there is a framed picture of a red-faced newborn Hana swaddled in a receiving blanket, her eyes clenched shut and mouth stretched open in what Levi imagines is a mighty squall. Next to it is a picture of a younger Mikasa with her arm around Hana’s father, his posture always slightly straighter than hers even when he is leaning into her embrace. It is a home, at least, though not much of one.

He gently chides himself: as though he could think that his sterile condominium is more of a home than this place, even if it is a dump. Mikasa’s apartment is cramped and in disrepair, but warm. Levi can feel that people truly live there. In comparison his apartment feels like a laboratory, a museum exhibit of a home, all immaculate flat surfaces and right angles. No charm, no life whatsoever.

Mikasa walks in the living room, her short hair tucked away from her face with a headband. She has changed as well, swapping out her no-nonsense black pants and white shirt (her usual ensemble as well as his, but both of them have chosen not to point that out) for a pair of dark jeans and an oversized pink t-shirt whose drooping neckline highlights the protruding ridge of her clavicle. When he looks back at her face, he notices for the first time how sharp her cheekbones are. He realizes she usually conceals them behind her dark curtain of hair. He wonders what else she has been hiding.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks him.

Levi wants to say yes, but his lips cannot form the word, as if they simply don’t know how. “I can’t impose on you like that.”

“I insist. To thank you for bringing me my keys.” She looks down at him and smiles. He takes up nearly the entire loveseat, which makes her smile a bit; she’s always found that particular piece of furniture a bit cramped, but has never been able to afford a replacement.

Levi shrugs. “Fine.”

“You’re not a vegetarian, right?”

“No.”

“Food allergies?”

“None.”

“Food preferences?”

“None.”

Mikasa twists her mouth as she thinks for a moment. “How does curry sound?”

Levi wrinkles his nose. “You make curry?”

“Japanese curry. It’s relatively mild. I was thinking chicken, a few vegetables, some rice. Should be done in half an hour or so. Make yourself at home.”

Levi hopes he doesn’t freeze up too long before he says, “Sounds good.” Mikasa nods at him, then walks out of the living room. “Is my car still going to be here when I’m done eating?” he calls after her.

She pokes her head back in. “It should be. Hey, I just put Hana down for a nap. If you hear her crying, would you mind bringing her out to the living room? Just open her toy chest for her and she should be able to entertain herself. There are some DVDs in the cabinet under the TV, too.”

“Okay,” he says, but he is thinking, “I am not dealing with your shitty fucking brat, even for a free meal.”

Sure enough, after ten minutes he can hear the baby whimpering. Levi remembers a snatch of information from a source he can no longer remember that said that babies should cry a bit, that they need to learn to soothe themselves. So he pulls out his iPad and starts swiping through his emails, pulling up a Powerpoint presentation he needs to finish about the pros and cons of acquiring a software company run by one of Erwin’s insufferable business school buddies. Still, despite how much Levi cannot stand Nile (the prick, he adds mentally every time he thinks of the man’s name), the man has managed to stumble his way into relative profitability, with the possibility for a revenue explosion once his company starts expanding their offerings to mobile platforms. Whether he likes it or not, he needs Nile Dawk, and he needs Nile Dawk to think he needs Smith.

Levi finishes two slides, arranging graphs and charts to show the current revenue streams of Dawktech, before Hana’s wails grow louder. He frowns and places his iPad on the rickety coffee table, then goes out to the hall to check on the baby. There are two darkened doorways before him: he chooses the right, which leads to a cramped bathroom, a stall shower, toilet, and microscopic sink nearly overlapping in the closet-sized space.

He walks to the room on the left and flicks on the light, and a pained groan escapes his lips before he can think to stifle it. Mikasa and Hana share a bedroom, if it can even be called that: she sleeps on a caving-in twin mattress propped up on splintering wooden pallets. It is made neatly, a dark quilt spread over it, but the bed’s disrepair is evident even beneath the blanket. Sitting next to it is a stained and faded crib containing a frowning Hana. When she sees Levi, she whines wordlessly, thrusting her chubby little arms in the air.

“You wanna go up?” Levi asks tentatively, unsure what to do with this tiny person.

“Uh!” Hana repeats. “Uh!” Levi scowls, then walks over to the playpen and gathers the little girl in his arms. Hana wraps one arm around his neck and rests her head against his hard chest, placing the thumb of her free hand in her mouth. When Levi tries to deposit her on the floor in the living room, she whines and clutches at him, nearly strangling him with one little limb.

“Goddammit,” he mutters. “I have work to do.” Hana responds by sighing and settling against his chest, sucking away at her thumb. “Just, um, be cool and shut up.” Thankfully, the baby obliges as Levi starts to work, watching him as he plots graphs and calculates projected profits. Hana simply lies there, thumb in mouth, watching the screen intently. Levi tries not to acknowledge the scent of her hair, the artificial sweetness of lingering baby shampoo doing more to irritate something in him. When Hana shifts and rests her back against the curve of his right arm, he does not do anything to move her. She is warm and heavy and somehow familiar against his chest.

When Mikasa calls for dinner, he is almost disappointed. Almost.

She cooks like she works: simply and effectively. The curry isn’t much, Levi thinks, compared to the sumptuous dinners he’s had on Smith money, trying to woo Nile (that prick), but it is warm and it is filling and it is surprisingly flavorful. When he clears his plate he puts down his fork, wincing a little as it clatters against the side of his plate, and takes another scoop of rice and two more of the curry. Perhaps he is being a bit too eager, but he cannot remember the last time he ate a home-cooked meal that hadn’t been pre-portioned and packaged and delivered to his doorstep first.

As they eat, Mikasa asks Levi how his presentation is going and he tries to give her the sanitized version for Hana’s sake; he only calls Nile a prick twice.

Mikasa chuckles. “He is a prick.”

“When did you ever meet him?” Levi asks, his mouth full of half-chewed chicken and carrot.

“He called for you today when you were meeting with Erwin. He bitched at me when I said you’d have to get back to him tomorrow.”

Levi lets out a little “Hm” sound, a single snicker, the closest thing Mikasa has heard to his laughter. “Sounds like Nile.”

They don’t say anything else for the rest of the meal, but this is enough for them. It is more conversation than either of them has had in a long time.

After they finish eating, Levi offers to wash the dishes in his own way: without speaking, he clears the table and brings the dirty dishes to the sink, then gets to work, a hot pink sponge gripped between his fingers. Mikasa wipes Hana’s face and highchair, both liberally splattered with curry sauce, then puts her on the floor so she can crawl around or, as she has been doing more frequently as of late, grabbing the closest available surface to help her stand. While Hana scoots across the linoleum, chattering happily to herself (Mikasa thinks she hears a few “Dada"s, but tells herself Hana is just babbling), Mikasa busies herself with the leftovers, scraping them into a plastic container.

The presence of her boss next to her, scrubbing plates and forks in his shirtsleeves, should be strange, she thinks. This should be awkward. This should feel wrong. But it does not. Levi’s shirt is too white, too crisp, blinding in the dim yellowed room, but he seems to fit here somehow, fit beside her as they work in tandem.

Mikasa swallows thickly, as if trying to make the thought disappear down her throat. _He is just being polite,_ she tells herself. _Nothing more. You are not so starved for compassion that you cannot recognize basic politeness in others._

 _But I am,_ she thinks.

When she finishes putting the food away, Levi looks over at her and sticks out one wet hand, his fingers coated in a rime of soap bubbles. "I’ll take those.” Mikasa smiles (partially in gratitude, partially at the sight of him doing something as mundane as her dishes) and nods her thanks without quite meeting his eyes.

Mikasa picks up Hana from the floor, then takes her to their room to put on her pajamas. When they come out, Levi is by the front door, putting on his coat.

“Were you going to slip out?” Mikasa asks with a smirk. Hana rests in her arms in pink footed pajamas, her eyes already half closed.

“I thought about it,” he replies. “But no.” She chuckles. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for bringing back my keys.”

Levi grunts his response, then opens the door. He pauses then, his hand on the knob, one foot on the threshold.

“Did you forget something?” Mikasa offers, one eyebrow cocked.

“Move out of here,” he blurts, turning toward her.

Mikasa is taken off guard for a moment, her mouth opening and closing silently as she tries to come up with a reply, thrown by the pleading look in his eyes. After a few moments she says, “I’m trying. I can’t afford it yet.”

“I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay for whatever.”

She shakes her head. “No. I can’t pay you back.”

“I’m not asking you to. Just don’t live here anymore. Please. Not in this building, not in this neighborhood. Don’t raise Hana here. You both deserve better.”

Mikasa looks away from him. “No, please…”

“Look at me,” Levi snaps. After a moment, she obeys him. “I insist.”

He does not leave until Mikasa gives her assent, silently nodding with her mouth drawn into a thin line of resignation.

The next day, Levi emails her a list of links to apartment listings, all of which seem to charge an exorbitant amount of money for rent. The subject of the email reads: “Pick One.”

* * *

For six weeks Mikasa’s life is a haze of apartment listings, open houses, then packing her belongings into boxes once she secures a two-bedroom on the twelfth floor of a downtown high-rise. Levi offers her the services of a moving company, which she declines; she does not want anyone else to see her shabby little home, to move her few dilapidated pieces of fourth-hand furniture. Mikasa has decided to leave it all behind, the little pallet bed, the couch with the worn arms, the kitchen table held together with duct tape and hope. She wants to burn it all, but figures the next occupant of Apartment 104 will probably need it as much as she did.

Besides, she reminds herself, Levi has taken care of everything. When she went to visit the apartment after she got the keys from the rental company, she found that the entire place had been furnished: a plush sectional sofa in the living room, a crib and a small bed in Hana’s room, and the nicest king-sized bed she has ever seen in her bedroom.

“ _Leviiiiiii_ ,” she whined, gritting her teeth in exasperation even as a frisson of excitement shot through her body, crescendoing to a wave, to giddy laughter spilling from her mouth, to her legs pumping as she ran towards the bed and flung herself on it, whooping as she flew through the air and landed softly on the pillowtop mattress.

Mikasa buys frames for her magazine cutouts, for the pictures of herself and Hana and Eren. She drives her little rickety car to Ikea and buys new silverware, a lamp for her bedside table, flower pots and Gerbera daisies for the small terrace just off the living room. On her twelfth night in the apartment, she fills up the enormous bathtub with steaming hot water and soaks until her fingers and toes become wrinkled. That night, as she drifts off, her muscles relaxed and supple from the long soak, she decides she will never again live in a home without a bathtub.

It all seems too rich for her blood, these little niceties. She starts feeling anxious, convinced she has made a huge mistake and spent all of her money; that she will be out on the street in weeks. After spending what seems like an exorbitant amount of money on odds and ends she didn’t realize she needed — sponges, hand towels, a bath mat, a rare splurge on a pine-scented candle — she checks her bank balance on her phone as she sits in the parking lot of the store, Hana starting to fuss in the backseat. After factoring in the money she expected to spend on furniture, on a security deposit, on rent for the next six months (which Levi has also decided to pay), she realizes she has so much left over that she immediately drives to an electronics store and buys a massive flatscreen television for the living room and an iPad for Hana.

Still, the baby comes to work with her week in and week out, and even when Mikasa’s head is down she can feel the laser focus of Levi’s gaze upon her and Hana. Each day her dread grows heavier. Each day the click of her heels in the marble-tiled lobby of Smith and Company starts to sound more and more like gunshots. But the hammer does not drop. Mikasa keeps going to work, Hana keeps watch beside her desk, and Levi says nothing.

When she finally brings up the nerve to ask him whether he minds the baby’s presence, Levi shrugs and emits a noncommittal grunt. But when Mikasa excuses herself to go to the bathroom later that day, asking him to keep an eye on her child for a few minutes, she comes back to find him kneeling on the floor next to Hana, stacking blocks so she can knock them down.

* * *

On the last Friday of each month, Levi likes to treat the entire department to lunch. But that is all he does: he has Mikasa decide what to order (within his parameters, although his only qualifier is that the food be “not shit”), phone it in, give the cashier his credit card number, and pick it up. It is not the most distasteful thing Levi has made her do during her tenure as his secretary; tech acquisition is Smith’s smallest department, and Levi is too much of a health nut to burden Mikasa with boxes upon boxes of grease-dripping pizza.

But today is different, because Hana is here. For now her appearances are limited to Tuesdays and Thursdays, owing to the new day care’s schedule (at least this is what she tells Levi), but there has been an outbreak of head lice amongst the children. Mikasa prefers to put this burden on Levi rather than keep her daughter in day care and spend her nights scrubbing Hana’s scalp and checking for nits.

She keeps expecting this great reckoning, for Levi to blow up at her for having Hana around. But it never comes. She knows she saw him on the floor next to the baby, but it feels like a dream even though she saw it with her own two eyes. Still, she does not discount the possibility that she may have been hallucinating.

After Mikasa puts in the lunch order — the equivalent of a full-sized salad bar, the leftovers from which Levi will gruffly suggest she take home as though she is still scraping together meals of chicken curry and rice in her falling-apart kitchen — she wonders who is going to watch Hana when she is gone. She picks up Hana and goes over to the adjacent offices, but Mike’s secretary is out on maternity leave and Hanji’s entire department is at a conference. Sighing, she takes Hana back to Levi’s office and starts the interminable task of getting her bundled up to go outside, made more difficult by the baby resisting her mother at every turn.

“Come on,” Mikasa says through gritted teeth as Hana removes her right arm from the sleeve of her coat for the third time. The baby whines in response. Each successive attempt leads to louder noises from her, crescendoing to a shrieking wail that causes Levi to open his door and see what is going on.

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa blurts out before her boss can say anything. “There’s no one to watch Hana while I pick up lunch, but she doesn’t want to go.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?” he replies immediately. He sounds a little firmer than usual.

She stops struggling with Hana for a moment; the baby takes that opportunity to wriggle out of her little coat and rip her hat from her head, revealing a staticky cloud of soft black hair. “You would watch Hana?” Mikasa asks in disbelief.

“Why not? I’ve watched her before,” he says.

Mikasa frowns. She does not want to think about her former home or the fact that Levi was there, washing dishes in her sink. (Suddenly, she understands the appearance of a dishwasher in her apartment between the day she got her keys and the day she moved in. For some reason she assumed it was the landlord’s handiwork.) “Are you sure?”

“I think I can handle a baby for twenty minutes without killing or maiming it.”

“You think? Hana may be better off alone, then,” she replies with a smirk.

“Funny,” he says sarcastically, motioning for Mikasa to pass the baby to him.

She sighs and tries to remember if there’s anyone else in the building, on the street, in the universe who will take Hana. “It’s really no problem. I know you’re busy.“

Levi frowns, annoyed at Mikasa’s hemming and hawing. "Look, she likes me and she’ll most likely be unscathed by the time you get back. She’s not screaming now.”

Mikasa sighs. “You’re right.” Levi makes a little noise somewhere between a scoff and a grunt that seems to say, “I know,” but she chooses to ignore it. She discards Hana’s outerwear and hands the baby off to him. Hana grins and starts to play with Levi’s tie, twisting it in her little hands.

“You don’t mind that she’s doing that?” Mikasa asks, her brow furrowing into a look of deep concern as Hana yanks on the tie. Levi, to his credit, simply loosens the knot at his throat and lets the baby pull on the long strip of silk.

“It’s just a tie,” he replies. Mikasa looks at him in disbelief — she has heard him muttering to himself hours after spilling tea on one of them — and leaves.

“All right, I’ve got work to do,” Levi grumbles, settling down in his chair. He shifts Hana in his arms so she is sitting on his lap, then pulls the end of his tie from beneath his collar so she can mangle his neckwear without garotting him. She seems to take to that rather well, chewing on the narrow end of it for a few moments before scrunching the material in her hands.

He thinks it rather convenient that this is his least favorite tie. If it had been the solid green silk or the black with silver ribbon stripes, Hana would probably be whining in the backseat of Mikasa’s car, forever banned from entering his office. He is not proud of his temper, has mostly controlled it, but the thought of a hundred-and-fifty-dollar tie meeting its demise at the hands of this grubby little thing is too much for him to bear.

Hana sits on his lap for a little while, babbling away as Levi composes an email, then spends a few minutes browsing online for a pair of shoes to go with a suit he has recently purchased. He tells himself it was the fine broguing on the shoes and not Hana’s excited laugh that makes him take a closer look at a pair of brown captoe oxfords.

After a few minutes, Hana starts to get restless, fidgeting beneath Levi’s grip. He tries to hold her still, drapes one arm over her to try to keep her seated, but she squirms out from under him and turns herself around, steadying herself against his chest so she can pull herself up, standing on his thighs and leaning her hands against his shoulders.

“Hi,” Levi says tentatively.

“Hi!” Hana repeats.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

The baby giggles and says something incomprehensible, then reaches up and squeezes Levi’s nose.

“Can you not?” His voice comes out muffled, nasal. Hana laughs in response. Before he can remember to compose himself, he’s chuckling along with her as she pinches his nostrils. Her hands smell a little bit like the lotion Mikasa uses.

Not that he would notice that.

“Dada,” the baby says, turning her attention to Levi’s cheeks, pressing her hands into his skin.

“You talking to me?” Levi asks, raising one eyebrow at the child whose nose rests mere inches from his. “I’m Levi. Leeee-viiii.”

“Dada!” Hana squeals. “Dada!”

He shushes her, holding her to his chest and rocking her back and forth. He is not sure if he is comforting her or himself. “Don’t let Mommy hear.”


	2. Chapter 2

Nile Dawk wants them to fly across the goddamned country. That's how Levi delivers the news to her. Mikasa winces at his words. Not that she is shocked or offended by his near-constant profanity; she merely wishes he would curb his tongue when Hana is in his presence, which seems to be more and more often lately. Today there is no real discernible reason for Hana to be perched on Levi's lap. Unsolicited, he asked Mikasa if she wanted to work without interruption while revising and fact-checking his presentation to Dawktech's senior executives.

He has learned his lesson, it seems; he removed his tie before asking Mikasa if he could take Hana off her hands.

"How long will you be at Dawktech?" she asks, pulling out her phone to see which of his appointments will need to be rescheduled.

"A week," Levi replies. "Maybe ten days. Depends on how negotiations with that pr— with Nile go."

"Pick!" Hana squeals.

Mikasa narrows her eyes at her boss. "Did she just call Nile Dawk a prick?"

"Pick!" the baby repeats.

"I distinctly heard 'pick,'" Levi says, wrapping one arm around Hana to steady her in his lap as she smacks a paperweight against the desk. He smoothly removes the glass globe from the baby's hand and leans in close to her. "He's such a prick, isn't he?" he murmurs. Hana giggles in response.

"Levi, did you teach my daughter to curse?" Mikasa's voice raises a notch, just enough from her usual calm monotone that he knows for certain that she's angry with him.

So he smirks at her. "I didn't teach her. She must have picked it up. She's a bright one."

Mikasa scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Come on."

"Just like her mother."

"Flattery isn't going to make this okay."

"Okay, so how's this? You're coming with me on this business trip."

"Seriously? Wait, you were thinking of bringing me along anyway. I have access to your calendar. You made a note of this."

He shrugs. "You got me."

* * *

Three weeks later Mikasa meets Levi at the airport with Hana in tow and a thousand apologies on her lips: the friend she'd roped into babysitting was called out of town on a last-minute business trip, Eren's father threw out his back and can't chase after a crawling baby, her neighbor is working night shift this week. Hana whimpers fitfully in her stroller. Sweat drips down Mikasa's forehead from struggling with the bulky carriage. A flush burns high on her cheeks as she huffs and puffs her reasons for bringing Hana along, running out of breath as she details them all.

"Don't worry about it," Levi says, waving her excuses away with one hand. His voice is gruff, but his mouth is quirked into a half-smile. "Do you want me to hold Hana while you get something to eat?"

"Yeah, sure," she answers in two halting syllables. A small part of her is still wary, unsure why Levi would volunteer so freely. Mikasa has noticed the evolution of Levi's feelings toward the baby: he has started using her name instead of just calling her "the baby" or "that." In the last few weeks he has dropped hints like anvils, saying that he wouldn't mind watching Hana in his office while Mikasa copied Levi's graphs and tables and placed them neatly into binders. She has twice caught him smelling the soft black hair at the crown of the baby's head, twice stepped back out of his office to try to calm her suddenly ragged breathing.

The less she thinks about how much Hana seems to talk about him, the better.

It should be a victorious moment for her, realizing that her child has managed to soften Levi, but she feels strangely off balance, as though her boss' change of heart is simply a ploy, a misdirect. The way he treats Hana is too close to the way she always imagined Eren would, if Eren had felt something besides paralyzing terror or existential dread around his own daughter. (He did, she corrects herself, but only occasionally.) Whenever her mind starts to drift, whenever she sees glimpses of a father in Levi, she tries to think about something else. Eren is Hana's father, she tells herself, and he will return someday to act like it. She hopes.

Mikasa chooses not to gloat or fret in case Levi will cease his behavior once she calls attention to it. She likes this seeming equilibrium, emotionally destabilizing as it is, so she handles it delicately, but allows herself a private victorious smile as she walks toward a Starbucks kiosk.

When she returns, iced coffee and egg white wrap in hand, Hana is curled up in the crook of Levi's arm, thumb in mouth, watching him work. The baby doesn't stir, doesn't even look up when her mother returns, and neither does Levi. It makes Mikasa frown a little, but she is relieved to be able to eat a meal without having to balance her child on her lap at the same time.

When they are finally called to board, Levi offers to take the stroller while Mikasa carries Hana. ("It's so we can get on before everyone else," he says while she considers her answer.) As they pass through the gate, an attendant wishes Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman a safe flight.

It is funny then. They laugh about it as they board the plane, then again when their stewardess tells Levi that Hana has his eyes.

"She must be colorblind," he mutters after the stewardess hands him his hot tea and moves on to the next row.

It is much less funny when the chauffeur from the car service thinks they are a family, and downright unbearable when the concierge at the hotel offers them a free suite upgrade from the adjoining rooms that Mikasa booked. She opens her mouth to object but is cut off by Levi's elbow jabbing into her ribcage.

"The hell was that for?" she hisses when the concierge leaves the desk to confirm the upgrade with her manager.

"Don't let your pride stand in the way of getting a suite upgrade."

"They think we're _married_ , Levi."

"So what? That doesn't make us married. If I tell you I'm a unicorn, does that make me a fucking unicorn?" Mikasa glares at him. "Look, I've stayed in the suites before. They're huge. We'll have separate rooms. Don't worry about it."

She sighs. "Fine."

"Everything okay?" the concierge asks as she returns to the desk.

"My wife's just tired from the flight. The baby was fussing the whole time." Levi gestures at Hana, asleep in her stroller. "Thankfully she passed out once we got in the car." That last part is true, at least. Hana is out cold, having somehow slept through the usually arduous process of getting her out of one seat and into another. Mikasa hopes her slumber will last long enough to get some sleep herself once they get to the room.

"Aww. How old is she?" the concierge coos.

"Ten months," Mikasa offers.

"She'll be walking any day now! My son is fourteen months and he was already running into walls when he was her age."

"I'm not looking forward to it. Nothing is safe." Mikasa smiles wanly. "She can already be a handful."

"Is she your first?" She nods in assent; the concierge beams. "It's a lot of work, but it's also a lot of fun." She hands Levi a pair of key cards. "You're in room 627, Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman."

"Your wife?" Mikasa asks sarcastically as they get in the elevator, crammed in with their suitcases and Hana's stroller. Levi's shoulder brushes softly against her arm as they travel up to the sixth floor, crammed together in the little box.

"You wish," he scoffs.

She smirks at him. "I'd rather lose my right arm."

The suite is sumptuous enough that once Mikasa steps inside she is speechless, unable to complain further about their temporary ruse. A nondescript beige door opens up into an enormous living room decorated in grays and blues, with another jumble of overstuffed chairs and couches on the far side of the room. Beyond that is a kitchenette with a sink, small refrigerator, and microwave. There are a few doorways that presumably lead to their bedrooms and the bathroom, and a glass sliding door that leads to a small terrace.

"I'll take this room," Levi says, gesturing toward a doorway next to the second living room. "You can call down to the front desk to get a crib or something. We're sharing a bathroom." Without another word, he grabs his wheeled suitcase and leaves her, closing the door to his room behind him.

* * *

Mikasa is not sure what she expected from a business trip, but it is not this. Their days are longer now than in the office; Levi rises at 5:00, does half an hour of yoga, showers, and is well into his work by the time Mikasa wakes up at 6:30. They work until Hana is due at the hotel's daycare at 8, then they both take a hired car to Dawktech's campus on the outskirts of the city and spend half the day in meetings and the other half reviewing paperwork in a conference room that serves as their makeshift office. Levi spends so much time looking at computer screens and thick corporate ledgers that the usual circles under his eyes deepen until they look like bruises. If they're lucky, they get to sleep before midnight. Most days they are not.

She hates it but says nothing. She keeps her head down and she works, because that is what she is paid to do. She tries not to think about Hana, whether she will start shrieking at the daycare, unused to spending so much time away from her mother. Instead Mikasa focuses on Levi, who talks aloud to himself and paces as he reads over a software licensing agreement, occasionally pausing in his stream of consciousness to bark numbers at Mikasa, who dutifully punches them into a calculator. When his patter slows to a stop, his words appearing as though by accident between longer and longer pauses, he slams his hand against the long table in the conference room and lets out an extensive string of swears.

"What's wrong?" Mikasa asks calmly. "What happened?"

"I'm going fucking cross-eyed. I can't look at any more numbers. They've stopped making sense." Levi rubs his eyes, blinks a few times, rubs them again. The soft blue-purples beneath his eyes fade into angry red as he presses his fingertips against his skin.

"I think that's your mind's way of saying it's time for a break," she says.

"I can't take a break. Nile wants more fucking information about the fucking... I don't even know anymore." He sighs, then collapses into one of the chairs that surround the table.

Mikasa puts down the calculator, then gets up and takes the papers from Levi's hand. "Go back to the hotel. Lie down. Put on some stupid television show. I'll pack everything up and get something to eat."

"Are you my mom?" he asks.

"Really?" she snaps, then softens her tone. After all, he is still her boss. "This is exactly why you need a break."

Levi sighs. "You're right. Get me a burger. Greasiest, shittiest thing on the menu. Fries. No, cheese fries."

"And a milkshake?" she asks with a smile.

He lets out a low snort, a distant cousin of laughter. "Good idea. Surprise me."

Mikasa pulls out her phone and takes some notes on his order. "I've never seen you eat junk before."

"I feel like I'm due for a good stress-eat." He gathers up his things and walks to the door, lingers there for a moment. "Thank you, Mikasa," he says, his voice almost a murmur. Then he is gone.

When she gets back to the hotel room, carrying Hana and a grease-stained paper bag full of food, Mikasa can hear Levi snoring as soon as she walks in the door. She puts Hana down and places Levi's dinner in the fridge, then goes to check on her boss. He is in his room, sprawled prone, one of his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. Mikasa goes back to find her phone, takes a picture of the sight (finding particular humor in the sight of one perfectly polished wingtip threatening to fall off his foot), then closes the door to let him sleep.

Levi wakes at five the next morning and is so famished that he eats the burger and fries while standing in front of the refrigerator, and guzzles the half-melted chocolate milkshake like it is mana from heaven.

On the sixth day of their trip, they sit through an eight-hour shareholders' meeting during which Levi has to listen to people threaten doom and gloom in the event that Smith purchases Dawktech. He does not have it in him to offer rebuttals to the individual remarks, not even after his third double espresso of the day. At the end of the shareholders' allotted time he stands up, grips the back of his chair to stay his caffeine-jittering hands, and tells everyone exactly how much money Smith expects to pay for Dawktech, down to the cent.

"We expect to _quadruple_ that value within five years with respect to the company's worth and, therefore, your dividends," he says, glaring from one end of the audience to the other. "And that's if we fuck up completely and mishandle everything. I'm not in the business of fucking up, so you can expect a hell of a lot more money than that."

When the shareholders vote, the acquisition goes through nearly unanimously. Mikasa watches it all from the back of the room, smiling to herself as Levi, once again, pulls off something that seemed impossible several hours earlier. As the shareholders disperse, Mikasa feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and steps outside to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Mrs. Yeager? Hana Yeager's mother?"

"Ms. Ackerman," she corrects the caller.

"Sorry about that, Ms. Ackerman. It's Mina from the day care. Hana's been crying for you for a little while now and won't stop. Is there any way you could pick her up?"

"Did you put her down for a nap? Feed her?" Mikasa asks. She winces at her tone, her high-pitched anxiety.

"Did all that and checked her diaper. She's fine. Separation anxiety is typical for children her age but we do recommend that the parents try to pick up their child if possible."

She sighs. "Is she still... welcome there?"

"Of course," Mina chirps. "She's been great, aside from today."

"I can be there in fifteen minutes," she says, then says goodbye and hangs up. Mikasa pushes her way to the front of the room, dodging suit-clad businessmen, and grabs Levi's sleeve before he can start chatting with one of Nile's executives.

"There's a party after this. We should celebrate," Levi says. "I definitely need a drink or twelve."

"I have to get Hana," she blurts.

His eyes widen. "Is she okay?"

Mikasa lifts one hand, waving his concern away. "Yeah, she's fine, just separation anxiety. I can't bring her to a party with a bunch of suits, though..."

"Nile hasn't shut the fuck up about his three brats all day," Levi complains, then pauses for a moment. "Bring her. We can score points with that prick."

She frowns. "You still need to impress him? The shareholders already approved the takeover."

He shakes his head. "That doesn't make it official, just sanctioned. All this means is that Nile will still have a job after the signatures on the purchase agreement are dry."

"Seven hours just to get permission?" Mikasa says, incredulous. "When will the signing be?"

"Hopefully tomorrow afternoon. I told the lawyers I didn't want to be here a minute longer than is absolutely necessary."

She lets out a huge rush of breath. "Oh, thank god."

When Mikasa gets back to the hotel to get Hana, the little girl's screams turn to quiet sobs, then soft giggles before they even get back to the suite. For the first time Mikasa feels a pang of resentment; if only Hana could stay quiet, she could do her job and not have any of these problems.

If only Eren were here to watch Hana at home instead of gallivanting around the world, she corrects herself. Sometimes it is too easy for Mikasa to forget that Hana ever had a father, that the baby didn't just spring from her body whole. Eren's last postcard was from Varanasi, but it has been two weeks since she received it. He could be anywhere. Mikasa sighs and tries to put the thought out of her mind, focusing instead on giving Hana some cereal to snack on and picking out an outfit that's as close to business formal as a baby can get, which turns out to be a floral sundress.

Hana makes no resistance and within ten minutes they are both in the backseat of a cab, heading back to Dawktech. The baby kneels on Mikasa's lap, a plastic bag half-filled with cereal clutched in one tiny hand, and tries to feed her mother pieces of puffed rice. Mikasa grins and pretends to bite Hana's fingers, eliciting peals of laughter.

At Dawktech the shareholders and employees have left the auditorium and convened in a large hall that seems to be set up for this particular purpose: the room is filled with huge round tables and chairs that are mostly empty, due to the fact that almost all of the people in there are congregating around the two small bars, one at each end, drinking heavily.

She spots Levi off to the side of the bar on the far end of the room, barely containing his misery as Nile Dawk chats amiably with him, occasionally gesticulating with a beer bottle. Levi nods at him, his face drawn and solemn, takes a sip from his beer.

"Sorry about that," Mikasa says as she approaches the two men. "Hana was being fussy at day care."

Nile's eyes light up, the first time she's ever seen him react to anything with more than a passing flicker of interest. "Who is this?"

"This is my daughter, Hana," she replies. "She was having a bit of separation anxiety at day care, so I went and got her."

"How old is she, nine, ten months?" Nile asks.

"Ten, yeah. Good eye," she replies with a smile.

"She's at that age," he says. "When my youngest was her age she'd scream bloody murder every time Marie left the room."

"She's not that bad. Yet."

"Pick!" Hana says. Mikasa's eyes widen and she shoots Levi a quick worried glance. He merely smiles.

Nile furrows his brow. "What did she say?"

"Pick," Levi repeats. "Like pick up. She says it all the time. Do you want to hold her?" He turns to Mikasa. "Is that okay?"

Mikasa looks at him for a moment, temporarily stunned by his feint. "Yeah, go for it," she says after a moment. "Actually, if you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom." She hands Hana to Nile, who babbles gibberish at the baby while she pets his wispy mustache and goatee and, unbeknownst to him, calls him a prick over and over to his face. Levi, to his credit, manages a cool half-smile as Mikasa walks quickly to the bathroom, where she starts laughing uncontrollably once the door swings shut.

When she returns, Levi is holding the baby again. He quickly passes her off to Mikasa with a thunderous look on his face. Nile is speaking a mile a minute, his tongue apparently loosened by the beer in his hand ("His fifth," Levi whispers in her ear when the other man is not paying attention), when he turns his attention to Mikasa.

"My wife dated Erwin while we were in business school. You know that, right?" Nile blurts.

Mikasa nearly chokes. "Uh, no. I hope you didn't steal her away," she says with a wan smile.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. They broke up before I asked her out. Besides, it all ended happily anyway — he's married to that madwoman," he chuckles.

Mikasa tries to shrug as best she can while holding a child. "Hanji? She's eccentric, but she's very good at what she does."

"Not as good as me," Levi cuts in.

Nile grins and puts one arm around Levi, who stiffens beneath his grasp. "I've had entire departments who couldn't pull off what this little guy does." Levi shoots Nile a murderous glare, but the larger man is too tipsy and enjoying himself too much to care. "To Dawktech and Smith, and to a fruitful partnership," he toasts, sloshing a little bit of foam as he raises his bottle in the air.

"To Dawktech and Smith," Mikasa repeats in a murmur. Levi says nothing, just fumes beneath Nile's arm. A muscle twitches in his jaw. He looks like a volcano about to erupt, all pressure and potential energy. She has never seen him so furious, but she has also never seen anyone simply ignore Levi's moods like Nile does.

"Say," Mikasa says, reaching into her purse with one hand and pulling out her phone, "I just got a text from Erwin. He wants to know how the meeting went. Says he needs to Skype with you urgently." She raises her eyebrows just slightly at Levi.

He puffs out a breath and says, "Well, Nile, duty calls. You understand."

"I do," Nile replies. "You should think about starting your own company, be your own boss. Don't have to let the old man tell you what to do," he adds with a wink and another slap against Levi's back before walking off to trap another hapless individual in conversation.

"I fucking hate that prick," Levi grumbles.

"I know. Now you don't have to see him until tomorrow. Let's get out of here," Mikasa says, walking quickly towards the exit, faster than Levi even.

Levi stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I should double your salary for this stunt. It was sloppy, but—"

"But Nile was too drunk to notice. I know." She chuckles. "You're not actually going to double my salary."

"Nope."

"Dick," she mutters under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. He smiles.

Within minutes after getting in their hired car, Hana dozes off, her head resting against Mikasa's chest. Mikasa, in turn, starts to fall asleep as well, leaning back against the headrest. After a couple of sharp turns she shifts a little and her head comes to rest against Levi's shoulder. He looks down at her, at her dark hair obscuring her facial features save for her parted lips, and decides he doesn't really mind having her there. Not that much.

* * *

The next day, a mildly hungover Nile (judging by the way he squints under the harsh fluorescent lights in the conference room) signs the purchase agreement, then slides it across the table to Levi, who scratches his name on the paper in short, spiky strokes. The lawyers in the room — two on Smith's side and, for some reason, five on Dawktech's — shake hands, a secretary notarizes the document, and the deal is done.

Millions of dollars spent, and the whole thing takes place in fifteen minutes. It boggles Mikasa's mind but she knows Levi will simply scoff at her, citing the months of work they did and the fact that the signing is a mere formality (though his term for it would undoubtedly be something along the lines of "legal bullshit").

"We are going out," Levi tells her as they wait outside Dawktech for their car to arrive, "and we are getting drunk."

"Good idea," Mikasa replies, "minus the fact that Hana is here. And the fact that I don't drink around her."

"I've taken care of that. Turns out hotel daycare is 24/7."

She cocks one eyebrow. "And if she gets upset like yesterday?"

"I'll handle it."

"And if she needs her diaper changed?" Mikasa asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Levi pauses. "You'll handle it." She rolls her eyes but her mouth is pinched at the corners, stifling laughter. "Look, you work hard for me and you work hard taking care of Hana. You deserve a break. Probably more than I do."

"No, that's not true—" she says, then stops. When was the last time she had a night to herself? She cannot remember. Even before Eren left, he usually slept far too deeply to be aroused by Hana's cries. There were a few nights where Eren and Hana seemed to bond and Mikasa was able to soak her weary muscles in a hot shower for half an hour, but those were rare occasions.

"See?" Levi smirks at her as he watches her think.

She purses her lips and lets out a resigned breath. "You're right."

"So what do you want for dinner? Let's go somewhere nice."

Mikasa thinks for a moment, then says, "I want the biggest, most expensive steak the company will pay for."

Half an hour later they are seated in a dimly lit corner booth, him in his suit and her in a simple black sheath dress (actually her earlier outfit, minus her blazer), watching the sommelier explain that the Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon that Levi has chosen has been blended with a phenomenal Merlot and will taste like berries with a hint of cedar. The sommelier pours a small quantity of wine into a glass for each of them. Levi picks up his glass, swirls it a little, then places it under his nose for a sniff. Mikasa watches him with eyebrows raised, never having seen anyone do this before. After he inhales, he downs his drink in one gulp.

"That's good," he says. "We'll take the bottle." The sommelier thanks him profusely for his fine selection (a bit heavy on the praise for Mikasa's taste, since after a swirl and a sip the wine just tastes like wine to her) and fills each of their glasses about a third of the way up.

"You're good at this," Mikasa says after the sommelier leaves, then looks down at her menu at the exorbitant prices for different cuts of beef. She tries to keep her face neutral, but the thought of a meal that costs more than her weekly grocery bill is nothing short of horrifying.

Levi chuckles. "That's what you're supposed to do. It can't taste any of that woodsy berry whatever-he-said bullshit. This tastes a lot better than the shit you get out of a box, but when people start talking about floral notes and such I just pretend to agree." He shrugs, then looks down at his menu. "If you want to spend money, I'd go for the Porterhouse. Not the most expensive thing on the menu, but it's up there."

"Wagyu is more expensive," Mikasa notes.

"Yeah, and if Erwin finds out we're eating Wagyu beef on his dime, he'll cut off my balls." He says this as Mikasa has her wineglass raised to her lips, causing her to sputter and choke. "Don't die. I don't want to explain that to Erwin, either."

She yanks the rolled cloth napkin from the table, sending the enclosed fork and steak knife skittering, and presses it to her mouth while she coughs and sputters. When she can breathe normally again, she spreads the napkin across her lap and says, "Explain to him that I died, or that I died and you ate a sixty-dollar Porterhouse with Béarnaise sauce and asparagus while my corpse just sat there?"

Levi thinks for a moment. "The latter."

The dinner is nothing short of sumptuous, and better-tasting than anything Mikasa has ever eaten in her entire life. Levi insists upon ordering appetizers, so before their massive steaks are brought out their waiter sets down an ice-filled tray studded with oysters, a shrimp cocktail served in an enormous glass, and, just for her, a plate with two wagyu beef sliders.

"Probably should have gotten a white wine for this," Levi says, slurping an oyster out of its shell.

"I don't think I'd know the difference," Mikasa replies, biting into one of the sliders. The beef is soft on her tongue, almost velvety, and she gasps as she chews. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I've ever eaten in my life," she says with her mouth full.

He reaches for another oyster. "Wait until you see the Christmas party. And stay sober, because Erwin gets shitfaced every year and someone needs to record it."

"Why not you?"

"Because I'm also going to get shitfaced. That's basically the only perk of being upper management."

"That and the salary, and the benefits, and the expense account..."

"And having Nile fucking Dawk on my back until we sell his company or I murder him," Levi grouses.

Mikasa snickers. "Just throw Hana at him. He seemed to like her a lot, even though she was calling him a prick the whole time."

"She's a good kid," Levi replies, and that is all he says until their steaks arrive.

By the time they leave the restaurant they have finished the bottle of wine and a second one, not to mention the generously-poured glass of dessert wine they each have with their pie (chocolate mousse for him, key lime for her) and, what the hell, a glass of port each to round everything out. When the check comes Mikasa asks to see it, and Levi refuses.

"Come on," she insists, motioning for him to hand it to her.

"No," he says, peering at her over the black leather folder. "You're going to get upset. It's a lot of money."

"I'm not going to get upset."

He cocks one eyebrow at her. "Suit yourself." Levi snaps the folder closed and passes it over to Mikasa. Immediately, her eyes drift down to the total printed at the bottom of the check.

"We spent _five hundred dollars?_ " she hisses. "That's a month of rent at my old place." Her eyes move to the top of the check and then scan downward. "Those glasses of port were twenty dollars apiece?"

"Keep your voice down," he says. "And it's all paid for. Erwin can afford it. He did just buy a software company, in case you forgot."

Mikasa sighs. "You're right. It just feels weird to me."

"You should get used to it." He reaches over and pulls the check folder from her hands, then reaches into his pocket for his wallet. "You'll probably get a nice-sized holiday bonus for your work on this project," he tells her, not meeting her eyes when he slides out his platinum company card and encloses it next to the check, then slides the folder to the edge of the table.

"I'll probably just put it away for Hana," she says. "I have to start saving for her to go to college."

"I swear—" Levi starts.

"If you're about to say you're going to pay for her to go to college so I spend that money on myself, I'm leaving," she says tartly.

He picks up his discarded napkin and starts to fold it into precise quadrants. "Admittedly, that was my initial response, but then I realized how completely fucking insane that sounded."

"Completely fucking insane is about right."

"At least we agree on that. No, I was going to say I'm giving you part of your bonus in the form of a gift certificate for a spa day so you can't spend it on Hana. You don't take care of yourself."

"I don't have the luxury of doing that."

He sighs. "I understand."

"Do you?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"I guess not," Levi says with a scowl. "But I can imagine."

Their waiter drops off the slim black folder again, Levi scribbles some figures (and, Mikasa notes as she peers over at him, a generous tip) and snaps the thing shut. "Shall we?" he asks, sliding out of the booth and offering his hand to help her up. She smiles and takes it, and they walk out together.

As Mikasa's heels hit the concrete outside she stumbles, her knees starting to buckle with the unexpected shift in momentum. As suddenly as she starts to fall, she is caught around the waist and righted. She looks down to see Levi's arm wrapped tightly around her. His grip is strong and it anchors her to his side, where he is warm and solid against her. It takes them both a moment to realize that they're standing there pressed together like lovers, and Mikasa immediately rights herself.

"You're drunk," Levi says, stepping away from her when he is satisfied she's steady on her feet. "I can smell it on you."

"I'm not," she replies and folds her arms across her chest. She makes sure to enunciate her words; her head is barely buzzing, even after two bottles of heady wine between them. She refuses to let Levi believe she's a lightweight. "My heel got caught in a crack in the sidewalk. I'm fine."

He raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "Sssure you are."

"Sounding a little slurred there, Levi. Think we should recite the alphabet backwards? Walk in a straight line? I bet I can do it better than you, and I'm in heels," she teases.

Levi smiles. "Conveniently, our cab is about to arrive, so I'll have to take a rain check on that sobriety test." She smirks at him, raising one eyebrow. "Do you want to stop off and grab a six-pack on the way back to the hotel?"

"Yeah, okay," Mikasa says with a shrug.

By the time they arrive at the hotel they are halfway through their first beers, opening them with the small titanium bottle opener Mikasa carries as part of her massive key ring. It takes Levi several tries for the door to read his key card; her laughter behind him does not help matters, but he finds he likes the sound of it anyway. Inside the suite they fall onto the couch, gabbing half-drunk nonsense.

And then the conversation quiets, turns serious, when Mikasa mentions Eren. They are discussing Hana and her newfound love of jumping (most often, Mikasa tries not to remind herself, when the baby is holding Levi's hands) and she wistfully reminds herself that he has missed so many of her milestones, missed the little girl emerging from the squalling baby.

Levi puts down his nearly-empty bottle and folds his arms across his chest. "I don't have any sympathy for him."

"Levi, please. You don't understand—"

"'Dear Mikasa,'" he recites from memory. "'Sorry I haven't written. Paris was beautiful, but expensive. Didn't stay long. Armin and I have decided to extend our trip. I'll let you know when I have a new itinerary. Give Hana my love. Eren.' It was on your refrigerator."

Mikasa clenches her jaw. "That wasn't yours to read."

"What, because you don't want people to know that the father of your child left you to take a fucking vacation?"

"It's not a vacation."

"Then what is it? He felt trapped and needed to clear his head?" She blushes and looks down at her beer bottle as it rests in her lap. "Was he finding himself?"

"He said it would be better for us in the long run if he took the time to grow up and be a better father. He was worried he'd burn out and run away. He said he'd be back. I have no reason to doubt him." Her words come out in a rush, jumbled and overlapping.

"You've been with me for more than four months now," Levi remarks. "Has he..."

"He's been gone for nearly six."

"Jesus Christ," he growls, then downs the last of his beer.

"Why do you care? I'm good at my job. That's all that matters."

He sighs, looks away from her. "Because Hana's dad isn't the only person who feels comfortable lying to his family. And that pisses me off."

"You don't know whether Eren's lying. He says he's coming back—"

Levi looks over at her until she meets his focused steely gaze with hers, dark and reticent. "My dad's been on vacation for the last thirty years, Mikasa. Eren's not coming back."

The two of them sit there for a little while, Levi picking at the label of his empty bottle of beer with his fingernail, Mikasa contemplating everything in the room except the man who sits before her.

"I know," she finally says in a small voice.

"Did you think I'd been rich all along? That I grew up like this?" he sets down his empty bottle on the coffee table and grabs a new one from the cardboard pack.

"Yeah," she admits. "I figured you were some prep-school snob. You don't look like you used to be poor. Or at least you know how to fake your way really well around rich people."

He scoffs. "It's a skill like any other. I was having some pretty vivid flashbacks when I went to your old place. I forgot what it was like to live in an apartment like that."

"So that's why you wanted me to leave. You knew what it was like."

"And then some. You're not bringing home shitty boyfriend after shitty boyfriend like my mom did."

Mikasa makes a low concerned sound and rests her free hand atop Levi's. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I got out. I'm fine." He spits out the words, terse as ever.

"And your mom?" she asks.

"She died when I was in college. Cancer."

She looks at him, at the faint lines at the corners of his lips, and takes his hand in hers. After a few moments, she says, "I think she'd be proud of you."

"I think she'd tell me to stop meddling with my secretary and her baby," he replies with a wry laugh.

"I don't mind. It's nice to know someone besides me cares about Hana."

"And what about you?"

Mikasa narrows her eyes. "What about me?"

"Does anyone care about you?"

"I don't know, Levi," she says, her lips curling into a smile. "Did you have someone in mind?"

"I, uh..." He looks at her face, at the glint in her eye, at her hand as she laces her fingers between his. That is the answer, he realizes, and all of a sudden it seems silly, stupid almost, that he hasn't kissed her before.


	3. Chapter 3

The pressure of his lips is so soft, so gentle at first that Mikasa barely notices Levi's kiss. One moment they are talking, his hand clasped in hers, and then he simply leans forward to caress her lips with his. When she finally recognizes what is happening she opens her mouth a little, allowing him further access — which he doesn't take. So she leans forward, against him, capturing his lower lip between hers. He takes his hand from hers and places it against her shoulder, then pulls away from her lips. His cheeks are ever so slightly flushed.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking away from her. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't be sorry," Mikasa tries to tell him as Levi gets up and walks away, slamming the door to his room behind him.

"Run," she wants to call after him. She wants to call him coward, to tell him he's doing the same thing he's excoriated Eren for doing, but she knows that this is a poor analogy. Levi runs from her in a thousand small ways, but he always returns. Still that does not stop her from punching the couch cushion and then burying her head in her hands when that fails to soothe her.

Mikasa rakes her hand through her hair, mussing the strands and letting them fall where they may, then grabs the remaining two beers in the pack. If Levi has decided to leave, then he has ceded his claim to them. It is a nice night, the city still clinging to the day's heat but with a cool breeze that stirs the hairs on the back of her neck ( _Or was that Levi?_ She puts the thought from her mind) so she decides to check out the terrace. They have been there a week and yet neither of them has had time to step outside for a few moments, to feel the breeze from six stories up.

She has lived in this place for seven days and has completely failed to notice the fact that there is a hot tub just sitting there, waiting for her to use it. Luckily for her there is a laminated card attached to the control panel that explains how to fill the thing, how to heat it, how to turn on what it advertises as extra-strength jets. Mikasa watches the various hoses spew water into the tub for a few minutes, absently pulling from her rapidly warming bottle of beer, before wandering back into the suite to grab a fluffy towel from the bathroom. Levi is still in his room. She stops in her bedroom to kick off her shoes and take off her dress, then starts digging through her suitcase to see if she'd remembered to bring a swimsuit. Finding nothing, she decides to brave the hot tub in her underwear; she expects Levi to hide and sulk in his room and either fall asleep or lie in wait until after she has gone to bed. If he chooses to ignore what has happened, so be it, but she will try to grasp this rare respite from her duties to Hana as best she can.

The hot tub fills and the jets kick on, swirling the water around until it froths and bubbles. Mikasa eases herself in, hissing as her skin gets used to the hot water. She drains the last of her beer and settles in, leaning her outstretched arms around the rim of the tub. She lifts her legs and lets them relax so they float along the strong little currents created by the jets.

That is when Mikasa hears the door slide open behind her, then a low, "Tch." Reflexively she turns to see who it is (though she already knows, so she isn't sure why she needs visual confirmation) and gets a glimpse of Levi standing there, a towel slung over his right shoulder, wearing a pair of black board shorts printed with white hibiscus blossoms. She tries to maintain eye contact but her eyes keep slipping to the hollow of his collarbone, the way his shorts hang low enough on his hips that she can see the way his muscles curve and taper, the sharp V that disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts...

_He is your boss_ , Mikasa reminds herself.

She turns away from him, instead focusing on the view from the terrace, the skyscrapers reflecting the sparkle of the downtown lights. From six stories up the din of car engines is reduced to white noise. Combined with the hum and rumble of the hot tub it creates a surprisingly relaxing soundtrack, Mikasa discovers.

Which is all spoiled quite handily when she feels the water being displaced, splashing her a little as Levi climbs in beside her. She closes her eyes and exhales through her nose, trying to calm the twin fires of annoyance and arousal sparking to life, threatening to spread from the pit of her stomach. He takes a seat nearly across from her but not quite: far enough that she is out of arm's reach but not at the farthest point away from her, across from her, so that she does not have to look at him.

"If kissing me was awkward for you, then I'm not sure what you're doing in here with me," she says after a few moments.

"I wanted to relax," comes his terse reply.

"Did you know there was a hot tub out here?"

"Yep. I was in here last night after you went to bed."

"You knew there was a hot tub here and didn't tell me?" Mikasa asks, half her mouth turning up in a tighter smile than she intends.

Levi looks at her, looks down. "I was hoping I'd get to use it myself."

A bubble of laughter escapes from Mikasa's mouth before she can contain it. "'Oh, Mikasa, you deserve a break! More than I do!'" she mocks him, pitching her voice half an octave deeper. "Bullshit!" She glares at him from nearly halfway across the hot tub and crosses her arms over her chest.

Levi exhales slowly, deeply. "Just because I was being selfish about a fucking hot tub doesn't negate how I feel." He says nothing for a few moments, letting the whirring of the jets fill the air. "Besides, you're sitting in it. It's not like I'm kicking you out."

"Maybe I want to be mad at you," she sulks. They sit in silence for a few moments.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," Levi says quietly.

"I'm not mad about that. I'm mad that you ran off."

"Mikasa, you know nothing can happen between us. I could lose my job if Erwin found out. You could too. This whole deal with Dawktech could be called into question."

"Yeah," she sighs. "But..." She trails off, takes a moment to think. "What if it was just for tonight? Tomorrow we fly back and everything goes back to normal. But tonight..."

Levi slicks his hair out of his face with one wet hand. "Tonight...?" he asks, looking askance at her.

"We could see what happens," she says with what she hopes is a nonchalant shrug.

He sits there for a few moments, saying nothing. "Hm. I'll think about it."

"You'll think about it?" she blurts, voice high-pitched with incredulousness.

"Look, I like you, Mikasa. But I also like having a job and a reputation for being good at it. Not for fucking my secretary."

"I didn't say it was going to go that far," she says, arching one eyebrow.

"You know what I mean."

She sighs. "Anything else you're stuck on?"

"You have a boyfriend."

Mikasa leans her head back against the rim of the tub and looks skyward at the violet sky, the stars blotted out and the darkness dulled by the city lights. "After all the shit you talked on Eren, you still act like he's my boyfriend?"

"You defended him. I assume that means you have a reason to," Levi says with a shrug.

She sighs. "I do love him. He's a good person with a lot of growing up to do."

"But not your boyfriend."

"It doesn't feel like it. It feels like I'm being dumped in slow motion."

"Six months is a long time," he muses.

"Things weren't good when he left. They hadn't been good for a while." She opens and closes her fist just under the surface, sending little spurts of water flying. "We never officially broke up, but he keeps extending his trip. I can take a hint. It's been so long that sometimes I forget he was ever here."

"So you want to be selfish, then," Levi says. Mikasa narrows her eyes at him and her mouth opens, a retort about to leave her lips. He holds up one hand to stop her. "That's not necessarily a bad thing. Putting yourself first can be good if you're living your life for others most of the time."

"And in this situation?"

"I can't tell you what to do here. It's your decision. Will you be able to work with me after this? What happens if Eren finds out?"

"I'll be fine. And this isn't Eren's business. I'm my own person."

He looks at her coolly, his face expressionless. "You really need to consider this. We're putting both our livelihoods at risk here."

"Dealing with you is a lot easier when you're my boss," Mikasa complains. She makes a fist and strikes the surface of the water with it, creating a small splash.

Levi snorts. "I'm not the boss of your personal life."

She smiles at that despite herself. Still, she does not appreciate his levity, so she cups one hand and drags it beneath the water, then lifts it and sends a handful of water flying at him. It hits him mostly on his chest, but his face also receives a fair sprinkling of water. Without a word he does the same to her but with his entire forearm, sending a wall of water to hit her in the face. Mikasa sputters and coughs for moment, blinking her water-logged eyes, before she starts splashing him some more.

They both know it is silly, but after this week they need the release. So they continue to fling water at each other, the sound of occasional laughter the only thing audible over the sounds of liquid being displaced. Mikasa puts her head down, shielding it with her forearm as she uses the other to splash Levi.

But then she is grasped from behind, one arm wrapping itself tightly around her waist, the other snaking over her arm, fingers entwining with hers, stopping her from drenching the now-empty other end of the hot tub with her waves.

And then she feels a light pressure on her shoulder, the smooth light pressure of his mouth, slowly kissing his way up to her neck. Levi readjusts his grip, holding her closer, and lets go of her hand to brush away her wet hair so he can trace the curve of her neck with his lips and capture her earlobe between his teeth.

"Levi," she breathes, her chest rising and falling. Her eyes close and her mouth falls open as he focuses his attention back to her neck.

"Only for tonight," he says in her ear. She turns to face him, a slight smile on her lips. She raises her eyebrows at him and he nods.

"Only for tonight," Mikasa repeats as she rests her arms over his shoulders and closes the distance between their lips.

He is not reticent like the last time. He comes out swinging, so to speak, kissing her with a ferocity she's only seen when he's strategizing, glaring into his computer screen. Their kiss is almost a fight, lips sparring, tongues clashing, both of them gasping and panting against each other's mouths.

One of Mikasa's bra straps falls from her shoulder and she unconsciously shrugs out of it. Levi trails kisses across her jawline, down her neck, pausing at her shoulder to worry at and nip at the skin there. She shivers in his arms despite the hot water around them, despite the fact that she is lightly perspiring.

From her shoulder he moves downward, kissing over the ridge of her collarbone down to the top of the swell of her breast, where he nuzzles his nose against her softness before pulling the cup of her bra downward with his teeth, exposing her. Mikasa obliges him, momentarily removing her hands from him to reach behind her and unhook the garment, then toss it elsewhere on the terrace. It lands on the concrete with a wet slap.

Before that, though, he has his mouth at the tip of her breast, and he is softer there than she ever would have imagined –– than she has imagined more than a few times, if she's being honest. So she holds him close, kisses the top of his head, gasps when he rolls his tongue around her nipple.

One of his hands moves lower, trailing one finger down past her sternum, brushing around the rim of her navel, using that one finger to tug gently at the waistband of Mikasa's panties.

That is where her hand meets his, flattening it against her lower belly. "Not there," she murmurs against the top of his head.

Levi pulls back from her breast and looks up at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just... don't want to go that far." He nods. "I've only been with Eren," she mutters by way of explanation, looking away from him.

"So?" he asks. "It doesn't matter. I want you in any way you'll let me have you."

She smiles, then slides his hand lower, between her legs, over her underwear. "You can touch me like this."

"I like it. It's like high school," Levi says.

Mikasa looks at him quizzically. "Maybe for you. People weren't exactly trying to pick up the girls in the choir."

"You'd be surprised how positively people respond to a letterman jacket, even if it's for gymnastics." Beneath her hand, he starts to move his. "And chess," he adds as Mikasa's eyes flutter closed.

They part the next day at the airport but she thinks about him the entire drive home, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly to keep herself from floating off into reverie. She still carries the sense-memory of him, his pectoral muscles pressed against her breasts, his lips on her neck, his wet hands on her back. Hana babbles in the backseat, happily oblivious to her mother's distraction.

In particular, she fixates on the fact that he broke their rule, that fifteen minutes earlier he had her pressed up against the driver's side door of her car and before she even realized what was happening she was grasping at the corded muscles of his back through his shirt and opening her mouth to him, panting "One more, please" when he finally pulled away from her. (He obliged her then, and twice more after that.)

But no more. Levi is her boss and she is his secretary, and despite any attraction and entanglement (the attachment to Hana now seeming more troublesome than adorable), first and foremost their relationship is a professional one. Which is why when she comes back to work on Tuesday she sticks to her desk, barely makes eye contact with him when she brings him his morning tea.

"Don't be weird," he tells her as she walks away from his desk. "You're being weird."

"Because this is weird for me. It's fine. Give me a couple of days."

On Wednesday she is slightly better at hiding her inner frenzy, but not by much. She regards him with a curious mixture of aversion and attraction, stares at him when he's not looking, avoids his gaze when he is. It is in those moments, eyes trained on her hands or whatever report she pretends to read, that she feels the heat of his eyes on her.

Well, she thinks, at least this madness is mutual.

On Thursday she feels as though she is fraying at the edges. Her nights have been restless, her days nervy and jumpy. Levi feels about the same, in his own way: a stiffness beyond his usual uncomfortable demeanor, his coolness occasionally giving way to a wavering anxiety when they are alone in his office.

Hana's presence doesn't help, and neither does their silence. There is so much to be said and both of them choose to remain tight-lipped even as they both feel like they are about to burst with it. Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman, they both try not to remember, the words cluttered together with the memories of wet hands and open mouths, of her head resting on his shoulder.

Mikasa, in particular, wishes she had been able to sleep with him that night, that perhaps she wouldn't be so haunted by the specter of him if she could reminisce over memories rather than sketch the little she knows of him or analyze him in hypotheticals. Levi is annoyed that she has managed to worm her way in, her and that _kid_ , somewhere deeper than he can reach in and extract them. It is a little frightening but the feeling is mixed in with something lighter. Something freer? Then he realizes: besides the money, there is something there that is not quantifiable, something that eludes facts and figures and even language, he realizes, as he tries to think of a way to describe the contours of his affections.

He is rummaging in the filing cabinet behind his desk, trying to find a file to give her, when he finally feels the need to say something: "If you stare at my ass any harder, you're going to burn a hole through it." It is not his best opening line, but it is far from his worst.

Mikasa stares at him agog, trying to formulate an appropriate reply. "Sorry," she mutters.

"Don't be. I'd stare. It's good to know that the squats are paying off."

She snorts. "Still, I shouldn't look. This is more difficult than I had anticipated."

"I know," he says. "I'm also having some trouble." Levi exhales thickly. "Look, do you have a separate email or something you check on your phone? Not a work email. I want to send you something private."

"If it's a dick pic, I'm going to be very annoyed."

"Come on. You know I wouldn't do that."

Mikasa shrugs. "You never know."

"It's just words, Mikasa. No pictures." He narrows his eyes at her, then realizes how deadly his tone sounds and changes course. She is not a foe to be vanquished or an obstacle to be cleared, he reminds himself. It has been a long time since he's had to confront a situation without thinking of other people as adversaries. He clears his throat, softens his tone. "It's okay if you don't want to. But there are some things I wanted to say about what happened at the hotel and I think it'd be best over email."

She looks at him blankly, trying to discern from his features whether this email will be positive or negative in tone. "Mikasa period Ackerman at Gmail," she says, then leaves the room.

Fifteen minutes later, while she is sitting at her desk, balancing her phone against her shoulder and Hana on her lap, her cell phone chimes. She reaches for it, steadying Hana with one hand and keeping up her patter with Nile's secretary on the other line, and sees the alert: an email from , Subject: (no subject).

_Fuck you, Levi_ , she thinks, annoyed that she now has to open the email to discern its contents.

"You got all that?" Nile's secretary asks, her disembodied voice echoing through the receiver.

"Yeah," Mikasa replies. "I'll scan and email you the contract packet when we get it back from the lawyers."

The other secretary chuckles. "Nile isn't expecting it until next week. We all know those guys get paid by the hour and they're going to take as much time as they can get away with."

Mikasa lets out a joyless laugh. "Listen, Levi wants me to run some errand for him. I gotta run."

"Talk to you later, Mikasa. Make sure to get me the paperwork as soon as you get it."

"Will do. Have a good weekend."

"You too."

Mikasa slams the receiver into its cradle and puts Hana on the floor next to her chair. The little girl whimpers but Mikasa reaches into her top left drawer by reflex and pulls out a truck for Hana to roll across the floor. She does, thankfully, and Mikasa is able to pull up the email.

_I can't stop thinking about you._

_Sorry this took so long. Everything else I had to say sounded creepy._

She snickers at this. His clumsiness should turn her off, would if it were anyone else. He is so confident, so capable at work that seeing him fumbling and puppyish is endearing.

Were you being creepy at the hotel? she writes back. _If so, then I think I'd like it if you were creepy to me more often._

_Still, when you're composing an email and it turns into two single-spaced pages of exactly what I'd like to do to you..._

His words make her shiver. _Send it to me this evening so I can enjoy it at home._

_Only if you write back and tell me exactly how you're enjoying it._

_Deal._

_And if you want, we can take tomorrow off and I can give you a personal demonstration._

Here she puts her phone down, her chest rising and falling with heavy anxious breaths. _My boss just propositioned me_ , she thinks, but the thought is drowned out by her heart beating rapidly with excitement and her brain screaming, SAY YES SAY YES SAY YES!

So she writes: _I drop Hana off at day care at 8:30. I have to get her by 5:30. Between those two times, I'm all yours._

Levi doesn't reply, but five minutes later Mikasa hears something that sounds like a soft, muffled groan coming from his office.

The next day she gets up early to pick an outfit that is nice but doesn't look like it's trying too hard; she settles on a sundress, cardigan, and boots. Hana is uncommonly compliant today, sitting patiently as she lets her mother dress her. Mikasa speeds over to the day care, arriving at 8:30 on the nose, then follows Levi's directions to a towering concrete and glass building only a few minutes from their office. The doorman asks who she's there to see, then instructs her to go to the tenth floor.

On the elevator ride up she starts to worry about what to do when she gets there. Will he kiss her when she comes in and immediately steer them to the bedroom? Her mouth goes dry and she wrings her hands as the potential situations unfold and multiply in her mind.

Then the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal the nicest apartment — though it's more like a spacious loft — she has ever seen. Mikasa does not even try to hide her slack-jawed speechlessness as she walks into the apartment, her boots sinking into the thick-piled carpet.

"Hey," Levi calls from the kitchen area, further back into an apartment. He steps out from behind a column and waves a spatula at her in greeting. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," she says, only just realizing that she did not eat before leaving the house. Mikasa walks over to him, her pace slowed due to her taking time to inspect the framed geometric and architectural prints on the walls, the huge windows that line one side of the room, the ceiling so high she has to crane her neck a little to look at it.

"You like eggs?" Levi asks as she approaches the kitchen, her boots clicking as the carpet transitions to immaculate white linoleum tile.

"Yeah," she says, looking over at him standing over an iron and chrome stove, cracking eggs into barely boiling water. "Are you poaching those?"

"Just let me show off, okay?" He gives the pot a stir, then turns from the stove to grab her by the waist and press a quick kiss to her lips. Mikasa melts into his arms, relaxing against the solid warmth of his body. When he tears himself away from her, it is with an apologetic, "Gotta watch the eggs." She giggles and lets him; he stands there, arm still draped over her hips, gently nudging at the coagulating whites with a slotted spoon that he holds in his free hand.

When the food is done he reluctantly disengages from her, shooing her away to the high-legged chairs that line the kitchen counter. She takes a seat and waits until Levi sets down a plate of sautéed spinach and tomatoes with one plump poached egg atop the vegetables, followed by a mug of steaming hot green tea (with jasmine, she notes as she wafts some of the steam toward her nose). Mikasa is already well into her breakfast, dipping a halved cherry tomato in some yolk, when Levi walks over with his own breakfast and tea, as well as a few slices of buttered multigrain toast for them to share. They eat in silence, stealing knowing glances at each other between bites of food, until their plates are empty. When Mikasa drains her mug of tea, Levi simply gets up, takes her hand in his, and leads her to his bedroom.

The day is not long enough. Once they fall into his bed, shucking off each other's clothes and discarding them, it suddenly becomes imperative to explore every inch of skin, to coax every magnitude of sound from the other, to study each other's faces contorted in ecstasy. When they need to rest they do, entwined in each other's limbs, her head on his shoulder. Levi trails his fingers through her hair, twirling strands of it around his fingers as Mikasa sleeps, her breath stirring the fine downy hair on his chest. It tickles a little.

At 4:30, an alarm goes off on Mikasa's phone. "I have to get ready to leave," she says mournfully. She looks down at Levi, whose lips are currently pressed to her stomach. He makes an annoyed sound and she feels it more than she hears it, his Adam's apple vibrating against her skin. Levi lifts himself up onto his hands and knees and moves to straddle her, capturing her hands beneath his and kissing her quickly.

"Don't go," he says, and beneath his usual commanding tone there is a softness, a vulnerability.

Mikasa smiles. "I gotta get my kid."

"I know."

"I was just going to make dinner and probably watch Frozen for the seven hundredth time with Hana. If you wanted to come by," she adds, looking away from him. Her smile is crooked and nervous. "After all, you've never seen my new place."

Levi thinks for a moment. "What are you making?"

"That's your question?" she asks, laughing. "That's the big decider?"

"I was curious," he says. "But I'll come over. We should probably, uh, debrief after this. And then fool around some more."

"I think you've already debriefed me plenty today," Mikasa replies, lifting her hips to meet his.

Levi scowls, then gets off of her, sitting at the edge of the bed. "You know what I mean."

She sits up and kisses his cheek, then reaches down to the floor to retrieve her discarded bra. "I was thinking of ordering Chinese. I'll get you something you like."

"And what would that be?" he asks, getting up and pulling on a pair of jeans to cover his nudity. Mikasa is almost fully clothed, but is on her hands and knees on the floor looking for something.

"Normally I'd say tofu and veggies, but since you've had a long day, probably chicken. Oolong tea. Maybe some of those little donuts that they have, the sugar-covered ones, since I bet you're feeling pretty satisfied with yourself right now." She peers under the bed, but sees nothing. "Can you help me look for my underwear?"

"That is spot fucking on," Levi notes, impressed. He peers over the carpet until he spots a scrap of black fabric hanging, improbably enough, on the corner of his dresser.

"That's what you pay me for," Mikasa replies, striding over and taking her underwear from him. She steps into them, yanking them up over her hips under her dress. When she is steady on her feet again, Levi pulls her in close for a kiss, crushing his lips to hers.

She lingers after they move back to the living room, finding excuses to push the fringe of his hair out of his eyes, to kiss his forehead.

"It's only 4:47," she drawls.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he asks, feigning ignorance. Mikasa takes his hand in hers and runs it up her leg, beneath the hem of her dress.

When she gets home nearly an hour later, her knees still a little shaky from Levi's goodbye to her, there is a postcard in her mailbox.

_Mikasa,_

_Hello from Bangkok! Armin got really sunburned when we went hiking yesterday. He looks like a lobster and refuses to go out today, so I finally had some time to write you again. We're starting to run out of money, so we're planning to fly out of Singapore next week. I should be home around the 30th. I'll call you when I get back in the country. Give Hana my love._

_-Eren_

Mikasa walks into the apartment and buries the postcard under a small pile of junk mail. Her guts twist and roil in the pit of her stomach and, for a few minutes, she thinks she may be sick all over the brand new carpet — the one Levi paid for.


	4. Chapter 4

Levi appears at her door at 6:30 (as promised) and greets her with a kiss that feels well-practiced, landing precisely on her lips with perfect pressure, soft but with a promise of more. His hands, one holding a plastic bag that dangles lazily from his fingers, linger at her waist as he tells her he's brought microwave popcorn and a DVD of  _The Princess Bride_ , in case Hana is amenable to switching.

"It was one of my favorites as a kid," he admits; his words are sheepish, but his darkly tired eyes make him look evasive. He says nothing more but his lips twitch, forming then suppressing further details.

"You don't need to sell me on it. If you're suggesting the movie, she'll probably say yes," she tells him, taking his blazer from him and hanging it on one of the hooks that line the entryway to her apartment. Beneath it he wears a marled gray sweater, dark jeans, expensive-looking sneakers. Mikasa pauses to look at him, taking in how easy, how normal this all seems, then immediately quashes the thought. She walks off toward the living room and motions for him to follow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, coming up behind her as she leads him down a hallway lined with framed pictures, which opens up to a large open living room. A sectional sofa curls along the far wall; Hana sits on the floor before it, surrounded by a small sea of scattered Legos.

"Dada!" she squeals when she sees Levi walk into the room. Hana throws down her blocks and starts to crawl toward him. His eyes widen and he looks over at Mikasa, who looks at him with knowing eyes.

"She talks about you all the time," she says by way of an explanation. "I've known about it for a while."  _Tell him about the postcard_ , she thinks.

"We should probably talk about this," he replies over Hana's expectant cries as she tries to use his legs to lift herself to a standing position, fails, falls onto her bottom. She lets out a confused cry. Levi bends down and picks up the baby, who starts squeezing his nose.

"Get used to that," Mikasa says. She walks over to him and takes the plastic bag from his hand. "That's her new favorite thing."

"I know," Levi starts to say, but holds his tongue. "Do you mind?" Levi asks Hana, his voice muted and nasal beneath her clenched little fist. The little girl simply laughs. "Clearly not."

Mikasa busies herself in the kitchen, unwrapping the bag of popcorn and putting it in the microwave, getting drinks for everyone. While she waits for the popcorn to finish popping her eyes are drawn to the three cups of water on the counter, two glasses, one sippy cup, side by side by side.

_Tell him about the postcard._

She gathers the cups in her arms and takes them out to the living room to get them out of her sight. There she finds Hana on the floor, laughing and clapping her hands, and Levi doubled over on the couch.

"I had her standing on my lap and she stepped on my balls," he groans. "I think I'm sterile."

"I thought rich guys were into having their balls stepped on," Mikasa quips.

"Not by  _babies_ , you pervert," Levi shoots back with a sly grin. "Gross."

The microwave beeps and Mikasa leaves to retrieve the steaming paper bag from the oven. She transfers the popcorn to a bright blue plastic bowl and brings it back into the living room with the DVD tucked beneath one of her arms. Levi gets up and takes the bowl from her while she sets up the movie. When she comes back to sit with him, she finds him leaning back against the couch, Hana next to him, reaching for the bowl of popcorn on his lap. When Mikasa takes her seat on Levi's other side, not wanting to interrupt the baby's pursuit of snacks, Hana crawls over them, settling herself half of Levi's lap and half on her mother's.

 _Tell him about the postcard,_  she thinks. But then Levi puts one arm around her and she finds herself snuggling against him, then the movie starts and they're all munching on popcorn and it's so simple and so perfect that she doesn't want to spoil the moment. In particular, she delights in Levi tossing pieces of popcorn in the air and catching them in his mouth; not for his skill in that — she can do the same quite easily — but for the way Hana watches him, raptly attentive, her eyes shining.

Levi is relaxed, at ease even when Hana reaches into the bowl of popcorn and offers to feed him a piece from her sticky fingers. Without hesitating, he allows her to do so and pretends to bite her fingers, growling and making loud "nom nom nom" noises at her. With the postcard hanging over Mikasa's head, she can't enjoy the scene before her as much as she wants to. She does try to savor it, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his nose wrinkles when he pretends to growl at Hana, the way the baby's eyes go wide, her musical little laugh, but it starts to feel overwhelming, both wrong and right. They look like a family. But they are not.

After a few minutes Mikasa excuses herself to go to the bathroom, shifting Hana over to Levi's lap, sniffling before she can close the door behind her. She doesn't cry much, just a few soft sobs and a couple of tears rolling down her cheeks (quickly swiped away with her fingertips), but it is more than she is comfortable showing in front of anyone save for her reflection in the mirror. She flushes the toilet to continue her ruse and inspects her face, pats cold water on her reddened cheeks and nose until she is satisfied that she looks normal.

"Have a good shit?" Levi asks with a smirk when she returns. He is pinned to the couch, Hana using him as her seat, leaning back against his chest.

Mikasa snorts. "Fantastic." She sits down on the couch, tucking herself under Levi's outstretched arm, leaning her head against his. They sit quietly as they the movie, Hana uncharacteristically quiet as she reclines against Levi. They soon find that this is because the baby has fallen asleep, but they decide to let her rest so they can watch the movie without interruption and, perhaps, sneak in a quick makeout session— which Levi interrupts so he can watch the Fire Swamp scene.

"This part is really cool," he says apologetically, placing a distracted kiss on Mikasa's nose (actually, half on the side of her nose and half on her cheek).

"I know, Levi," Mikasa says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. "I've seen this movie like a thousand times."

"I may actually have seen it a thousand times. I had a tape of it and I'd just watch it over and over as a kid." What he doesn't say: how frequently he used the soothing familiarity of a happy ending as a balm, the sound on his little television turned up high to disguise the sound of his mother and her boyfriend of the moment fighting or fucking — sometimes both at once.

She shrugs. "Probably the same way Hana wants to watch Frozen twelve times a day."

"I'm not surprised. I bet she raises hell if she doesn't get her way."

"How'd you know? Was it all the blood-curdling shrieking you've heard?"

"Nah. Just brilliant," Levi replies, shaking his head.

Mikasa smiles and pats his shoulder. "So brilliant you forgot to remind me to order food, so I'm gonna do that."

He nods. "Go for it. I think Hana ate most of the popcorn."

"Yeah, the baby definitely did that," she deadpans, shooting him a sidelong glance.

He shrugs and raises his hands, feigning ignorance. Mikasa taps on her phone to order their food, chicken and vegetables for Levi, and, after scanning the menu twice, she gets the same for herself. Tea for both of them (she doesn't keep it in the house; any time to steep tea is time she could be sleeping), those donuts for him, fried bananas for herself. When she is finished she slips the phone into her pocket and leans her head against his shoulder, rests her free hand against Hana's rounded stomach.

After a while Levi can no longer stay still beneath the baby's weight, so he motions for Mikasa to do something. She gingerly shifts Hana into her arms (Levi remaining stiff and still, nearly taut, as though she is defusing a bomb) and carries her into her room. Hana makes a small dreamy whimper when her back hits the crib mattress but otherwise stays asleep. Mikasa takes a moment to look at her, chubby and curled in on herself, little fists clenched. She notices that the baby's hair is starting to thicken out of its fuzzy halo, slicking itself against her head in fine licks.

"When's the food supposed to get here?" he asks when Mikasa gets up to retrieve the DVD from the player.

"Probably any minute. Actually, hold on, I'm vibrating." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, holds it up to her ear. "Hello?" she asks, then nods emphatically at Levi when the man on the other line tells her her food is there. "I'll come down and meet you in the lobby," she says, walking toward the door. Mikasa stops by the front table, at the scattered mail, and reaches in it to retrieve Eren's postcard. She drops it on top of the small pile as a reminder to speak to Levi after dinner.

She chuckles grimly to herself. As if she could forget.

After the front door closes, Levi gets up from the couch, goes into the kitchen and rifles around in the cabinets (neatly organized, he notes with approval), retrieving plates and bowls, setting the table. When he finishes Mikasa is still not back so he takes a slow tour of the apartment, finding himself walking back down the long hallway to the front door, pausing before each picture on the wall. He recognizes some of them from her old apartment: landscapes, screaming newborn Hana. He pauses before a new one, a photo that looks like Mikasa took it herself with her phone and had it printed. It's a fairly recent picture, judging from the little teeth in the baby's still mostly gummy smile, but his eyes are drawn to Mikasa, who has her eyes closed and is kissing Hana's cheek. She looks so serene, as though everything she needs in this world is contained within the grinning child on her lap.

For the first time in a long time, Levi wishes he could hug his mother. By the end, she was so frail, parchment skin stretched over hollow bird bones, that even the slightest pressure of his hand hurt her. She lay there in her hospice bed, her limbs covered with a thin sheet. Even that light whisper was too much for her as the cancer ate her from the inside out. Even when she was asleep there would be a twinge on the right side of her mouth when Levi laid his hand over hers. The last time he could touch her without seeing her wince in pain, she was already cold.

Levi moves to the end of the row of pictures, then spots one last one by the front door. It is another shot of Hana and Mikasa, sticking their tongues out at the camera. From the background, it looks like she took the picture at the office. Beneath it is a small table covered in envelopes, circulars, catalogs. He frowns at the sight, the haphazardly placed mail, a postcard peeking over the edge of the table and threatening to fall to the floor.

He walks over to the table and nudges the postcard (an ornate Buddhist temple with BANGKOK — LAND OF A THOUSAND SMILES written over it in gaudy script, undoubtedly from Eren) away from the precipice, then starts to organize the mail, stacking the catalogs on the bottom, following them up with flyers and envelopes, then the missive from Bangkok.

But then the postcard is facing up, and he can read everything that Eren has to say.

Levi's head snaps up when he hears the door open and he freezes there, his brain repeating, "Tell her you were looking at the picture."

Mikasa walks in and jumps a little, startled by Levi's appearance. She carries a large plastic bag in her right hand, stuffed full with food containers, a small sauce stain darkening one corner. Her eyes travel to his startled to his right hand, still holding Eren's postcard. A deep sigh escapes her lips. "I was going to bring it up after dinner," she says. "We were having such a good time."

"We were. Let's just eat," he tells her, but after they sit down at the kitchen table and unpack the food, portion it out into plates and bowls, they find there is nothing to talk about save what to do next.

"I don't see the problem," Levi says after a few moments of silence undercut only by the sound of quiet chewing.

"The problem with what?" Mikasa asks.

"With Eren. I'm honestly surprised he's coming back."

She puts down her chopsticks for a moment. "I told you so" weighs heavy on her tongue, but she purses her lips together and decides not to rub it in. "The problem, Levi, is that I now have to explain to Eren what the hell I've been up to for the past six months. Why Hana thinks my boss, who I also happen to be fucking, is her father."

He looks down at his food, takes a bite of chicken, chews, swallows. "I'd like to think that whatever is going on here runs a bit deeper than fucking your boss," he mutters.

"Oh," Mikasa says involuntarily, as though she has been struck. "I didn't... I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

He waves his hand as though he is shooing the awkwardness away. "I know. Either way, I don't see how it's your problem that you lived your life for six months while he traveled the world."

"But Hana..." she starts.

"Hana is well cared for and happy, no thanks to him."

Mikasa sighs, then rubs her forehead with one hand. "He's the one who left and I feel like the one who's betraying him. It's insane, I know."

"Then snap out of it, stupid." She glares at him. "Seriously. You've accomplished so much without him. Despite him, even. You have nothing to be ashamed about. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," she murmurs, an insistent smile tugging at her lips. "Except now we also have to discuss what's going on between us and what that's going to mean at the office." She picks up her chopsticks again and grabs a piece of broccoli, then chews it as she waits for his reply.

"We just slept together for the first time this morning, so I think it's a bit early to exchange rings." He smirks at his own joke. "But I like you and I like what's happening, so I don't see any reason to stop."

Mikasa bites her lower lip to try to keep a grin from spreading across her face, to no avail. "I agree. Although Eren—"

"I'm not dating him," Levi interrupts her. "So there's no need to bring him up."

"Okay." She takes a sip of tea. "I suppose we'll have to be discreet at the office."

"Yup. Don't wear that grey skirt, though. The tight one." He exhales heavily. "Your ass looks insane in it."

"I'll wear it when we're negotiating my raise." She smirks.

"It would work. You should probably look into a transfer to another department, though. We wouldn't have to sneak around if you didn't work directly under me." He reaches down with his chopsticks to pluck a piece of carrot from his plate.

One side of her mouth twitches into a half-frown. "I like working for you, despite the fact that you are a raging jackass."

"If it wouldn't make a mess, I'd throw this piece of chicken at you," he says before taking a bite. Levi takes a moment to finish chewing before he continues to speak. "We can't keep this up forever. One of us is going to slip sooner or later and then there could be consequences for both of us. Or we'll get sick of being around each other all the time." He looks over at Mikasa, who seems to be deflating. "Shit," he mutters. "I mean, I don't want those things to happen. That's why I think it's best for you to work elsewhere in the company."

"I understand. I'll look into it."

"At which point I'll gently let Erwin know that there's something going on there that I'd like to pursue. And possibly that I've already bent you over my kitchen table and I'd like to keep doing that, so he'd better make damn sure you get hired."

* * *

"Flight 244, 6:05 P.M. Flight 244, 6:05 P.M. Flight 244, 6:05 P.M.," Mikasa mutters to herself as she scans the bank of huge flatscreen monitors. It takes her a few moments to locate it. She swears under her breath when she sees in yellow text next to the flight information, "DELAYED 40 MINUTES."

"Mamaaaa!" Hana cries. She has learned that this gets her mother to drop everything and run, so she employs it for everything from a hug to a wet diaper.

"What is it, baby?" Mikasa crouches down in front of the stroller so she is at eye level with Hana. The baby whines. "Use your signs. Do you want a drink?" Mikasa cups her hand into a C shape and tilts it up toward her mouth. "Do you want something to eat?" She presses her fingers together and touches her lips a few times with them. Hana nods and mimics the latter motion.

Ten minutes later Hana is happily massacring an order of chicken nuggets that Mikasa has cut into neat quarters. She watches the baby eat and halfheartedly feeds herself fries one at a time, barely noticing as she automatically reaches her hand back in the bag to retrieve another one. Mikasa stops momentarily to pull out her phone and check the time; still twenty-eight minutes until Eren's and Armin's flight is due to arrive. Her heart starts to thump in her chest so she takes a series of deep breaths to calm herself down. It helps, a little.

With nineteen minutes to go, she starts pacing around the baggage claim area, pushing the stroller in wide loops, trying not to think about how much she likes her life right now, the strange novelty of security, the sense of pride at having stood alone for so long, the giddy disequilibrium of infatuation. For the first time since the Yeagers took her in, she feels as though things will be okay. For the first time since Eren left, she feels hopeful.

Mikasa pulls the stroller against a wall and walks around it to check on Hana. She is sprawled out against the seat of the stroller, mouth hanging open, fast asleep. Mikasa makes a small sigh of relief and sits on the floor next to her, then pulls out her phone to text Levi.  _Eren's flight is delayed and I'm freaking out a little._

A couple of minutes later, he responds.  _You'll be fine._

_Yeah, I know. Thanks._

_I can send you a dick pic if you want._  Following the message is a winking emoji, then a thumbs up.

 _LOL. Fuck you._  She sends him a pink heart, then a round yellow face, laughing uproariously.

_Wear that gray skirt to work tomorrow and it's a deal._

_I'll think about it._ Mikasa makes a mental note to send him a picture of herself in that skirt if she has a free moment that evening. After all, Eren will be there, and they will have a lot of things to discuss. She wonders when will be an appropriate time to tell him that he'll be sleeping on the couch. Maybe she should let that one slip before she informs him that his possessions have been at his father's house for months because she could not bear to look at them.

It is another twenty-five minutes before a bored-sounding airport worker gets on the loudspeaker and announces that Flight 244 has landed and its passengers will deplane soon. Mikasa gets to her feet, bracing herself against the stroller as her knees creak in protest. Hana, thankfully, remains dead to the world.

Deep breaths do nothing for her. The back of her neck is damp with sweat as she scans the crowd for Eren's and Armin's familiar forms. And then, when they appear, browner (in Armin's case, ruddier) and thinner than she remembers, wearing similar dingy grayish t-shirts and khaki cut-offs, she feels the urge to turn and run. Instead she stays rooted to her place, one hand gripping the handle of the stroller until the plastic bites against her hand and her knuckles turn white.

"Hey," Eren says as he approaches them, one hand lifted in greeting. His other hand anchors a green canvas rucksack that is slung over his shoulder. Mikasa has never seen that bag before. Armin follows at a short distance, his eyes darting everywhere except the reuniting couple.

"Hey," she replies, waving toward the two of them. Eren steps toward her and wraps his arms around her, gathering her in a loose hug. He smells of sweat, of stale air, a trace of deodorant. But he doesn't stop moving after he embraces her, drawing his face to hers. Mikasa's stomach lurches with anxiety and she turns her head, feinting like she wants to rest her chin on his shoulder. Eren's lips hit her cheek, press once, move away.

"I missed you," he murmurs against her hair. She frowns, hiding the lower half of her face behind Eren's shoulder, and says nothing. When she looks up, Armin is looking at his shoes and chewing his lower lip. Eren steps back, then turns his attention to the stroller, to sleeping Hana. "There's my girl," he coos, his eyes sparkling as he takes in his daughter. "She's so big now!" Eren reaches in and unclips the seatbelt that anchors her to her chair.

"Don't," Mikasa warns him, reaching out one hand. "She's going to get upset."

"She's going to be excited to see her daddy," he counters, utterly confident, as he lifts Hana out of the stroller.

Mikasa wants to shout, "What the fuck would  _you_  know about her?" but holds her tongue, simply watches with a bored expression as Eren holds Hana to his chest, leans his head down to smell her hair. ( _This should move me,_  she thinks.  _This is what I wanted._ ) But instead there is no feeling in her heart save for a nagging I-told-you-so when Hana blinks slowly, looks around to see what is happening, and begins to cry.

"Please put her back," she tells him, her voice soft. "You'll have time with her later." He looks over at her, something inscrutable darkening his features, and does what she says, then leaves to retrieve his suitcase.

"It's good to see you," Armin says, stepping forward for a hug. "I thought you'd be happier to see us, though."

"I've been wondering when Eren's going to be back for six months. I think I'm holding it together pretty well, all things considered." She steps back, turns her head to check on Hana, still sleeping.

"Wondering? Did he not tell you our itinerary?"

"Itinerary?" she repeats, a shrill edge creeping into her voice despite trying to keep her tone even. "You had an itinerary?"

"You didn't really think I'd travel around the world without extensive planning, did you?" Armin asks sarcastically, lightly swatting Mikasa on the shoulder. "Come on, you know me better than that."

She knows she is supposed to smile here, to laugh at her underestimation of her friend, but any semblance of social grace is obliterated by the force of her rage, the furious pounding of her heart. "Eren wrote me and told me you extended the trip a few times."

Armin's eyes go wide for a moment before he resumes a neutral expression. "He told me you knew how long we'd be gone. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she says, gritting her teeth. "You didn't know." Armin walks away then and joins Eren by the baggage carousel. Mikasa looks over to see them standing side by side, not speaking, as they wait for their luggage. When they return, Armin says he's catching a cab home, that he needs to sleep for a week before he can rejoin polite society.

"You sure you don't want to ride with us?" Eren asks, somehow oblivious to Mikasa staring daggers next to him.

"No, that's okay. You two haven't seen each other in half a year. It'll be good to catch up." He waves at them. "I'll see you guys around."

On the ride home, they don't say a word until Eren asks where they're going, squinting out the window at the unfamiliar route.

"I moved after I got a new job," Mikasa explains. Her tone is short but her voice sounds exhausted, straining under the weight of all that she'll need to tell him. "I'm downtown now."

When they arrive at her building she walks along ahead, not wanting to know whether Eren's silence at the relative luxury of her building is one of awe or anger. When she does look at him plodding behind her she notices the deep shadows beneath his eyes; for a moment she cannot believe she did not realize that Eren would be exhausted. He drags his suitcase behind him, his pace slowed to a crawl as he lugs the massive wheeled contraption. She does not offer to help him.

"Do you want to take a nap?" Mikasa asks as they walk into the apartment. "You've had a long flight."

"Yeah. That sounds good. Can we order pizza later?" Eren replies, then yawns, stretching his arms skyward. His t-shirt rides up, exposing his tanned lower belly.

Mikasa smiles at him despite herself. She makes a mental note to order two pies; knowing Eren, he'll devour an entire one. He looks like he needs it, anyway. "Sure."

She takes a moment to put Hana to bed, then goes back to the living room to find Eren gone. Her heart seizes up for a moment and the reptile part of her brain thinks that he's left again. But then she goes in her room and she finds him sitting at the edge of her bed, stripping off his shirt and tossing it on her dresser. From her vantage point she can see the lean muscles of his back, the faintly delineated slats of his ribs.

Eren turns to see her standing in the doorway, then pats the mattress next to him. "Come here. I'm gonna spoon the hell out of you."

Mikasa crosses her arms. "No."

"Why not? I missed you." He frowns, unsure why she is so reluctant.

"I know you didn't really extend your trip," she says. And with that, she leaves the room. Eren doesn't follow her.

After five hours (during which he sleeps so deeply that he does not stir even when she lifts the dead weight of his arm and lets it fall to the mattress) she regrets this decision. Hana crawls around the living room, investigating the baseboards and making Mikasa thankful she invested in covers for the electrical outlets. She tries to watch television;  _The Princess Bride_  is on one of the movie channels and she puts it on for the baby, who stops in her tracks to watch, but the familiar scenes, still vivid in her mind from a few weeks earlier, do nothing to soothe her.

Eren does not come out of her room until after she orders pizza, eats it (but feeds half of her slice to Hana, letting her take tiny bites from what she has left, covering the baby's face in sauce), and is about to put Hana to bed. They are sitting on the floor in the living room, Hana sitting between Mikasa's outstretched legs, reclining against her mother's stomach, when he lurches out of her bedroom, groggy and disoriented, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers.

"Good morning," Mikasa deadpans.

"Is that what time it is?" Eren asks. He rubs his eyes, then looks around the room. "It's dark out."

"It's 7:30. I'm putting Hana to bed soon. There's a pizza in the fridge for you."

"Thanks," he grunts, going over to the refrigerator and retrieving his food. He sits down on the couch, balancing the box on his lap, and begins to eat. "We should probably talk."

"Yeah," she says. "After Hana goes to bed."

"Can I hold her before then?" He finishes a slice of pizza, licks a smear of grease off his thumb, reaches for a new slice. "I missed her a lot, you know. Both of you."

"I'm sure you cried yourself to sleep plenty of times," she wants to say, but she doesn't. What comes out instead: nothing, accompanied by a mildly distracted nod. Mikasa turns back to the television.

He does, in fact, consume the entire pizza before asking to hold his daughter, holding his arms out to receive her. "It's been too long."

"Yeah," she says, gathering Hana in her arms, and passing her over to Eren, who holds her to his chest. Hana squirms, unaccustomed to this new person, and whines.

"Daaaa," she says, her voice starting to raise. Mikasa grabs the pizza box (which Eren has left on the floor) and walks into the kitchen to put it in the recycling bin. She is glad for his carelessness, since it gives her a chance to escape or at least put off explaining the thing that's been weighing on her mind since she received his postcard two weeks earlier.

"Hey, baby!" Eren says, his voice lilting. "I missed you."

"Da-daaaaaa!" Hana wails in alarm. She starts to cry.

"Dada's here," he answers, confused. "Dada's right here." It doesn't help. "Mikasa!" Eren calls.

She walks back into the room. "What?"

He holds the baby in his arms; she thrashes and tries to get away from him. "Why is she yelling?" he asks, his eyes wide with confusion.

"She doesn't remember you," Mikasa says calmly. "She'll get used to you."

Hana's cries turn to shrieks as she repeats those syllables over again, "Daadaaaa! Daadaaaa!"

"She sounds like she's calling for Dada," he says, raising his eyebrows. "Why is she calling for her dad when he's right here, Mikasa?" he asks, his voice raising.

Mikasa decides not to lie — but not to tell the entire truth, either. "I bring her to work with me a couple of days a week. She sees my boss a lot. I've been discouraging her from calling him that. She does it to most guys she meets. Don't worry about it."

Eren furrows his brow. "That's fucked up!" Hana still struggles in his arms, flailing her limbs. "Don't you think it's a little weird that your child hangs out with your boss?"

She looks at him, her gaze straight and clear. "No."

"I don't like it," he says, finally giving up and putting Hana on the floor. "I don't like this at all." She crawls over to Mikasa and wraps her arms around her mother's left leg. Mikasa bends down and picks up Hana, who makes a few fitful noises before falling silent. Eren's eyes go wide and he clenches his jaw as he sees Hana calm down so immediately. The baby lets out a little yawn, so Mikasa turns and takes her into her room.

"Come help me put her to bed," she tells him, motioning toward him with one hand behind her as she walks away. "If you're so mad about her not knowing you."

"What do you want me to do?" Eren says, standing in the doorway of Hana's room. He rubs his shoulder absently, looking around the unfamiliar room, at the decals of bright tropical fish on the walls, the burnished wood crib. It feels unreal to him, luxurious compared to the places he's slept, hostels and tents and occasionally roadsides.

Mikasa lays Hana down on a changing table that matches the crib. "Get her undressed and change her diaper. I'll get her something to wear to bed." Eren walks over to the changing table and starts to pull the baby's shirt off, Hana fighting him all the while.

"Stop, Hana," he says. She still fights him, pulling her arms away from his grip, pulling down the hem of her shirt whenever he starts to pull it up. "Come on!" Eren snaps loudly. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then sighs.

"Give her the stuffed rabbit," Mikasa says, pointing to a nearby shelf.

"I don't need help," he replies.

"Really? Because it looks like you do."

Eren sighs, then walks over and grabs the rabbit, placing it in Hana's grasping hands. She calms a bit then, long enough for him to be able to coax her into raising her arms so he can remove her shirt. He finally gets her down to her diaper, then wrinkles his nose as he unsticks the adhesive tabs and peers down at what his daughter has done. Mikasa stands by Hana's dresser, holding a pair of pink footed pajamas in one hand, watching Eren turn green. But still, he changes the baby's diaper, discarding the old one in the appropriate receptacle, wiping and powdering her.

"I will say I didn't miss this," he groans.

Mikasa lets out a dry laugh. "Get used to it. She's not going to be potty trained for at least another year."

"Just give me the damn pajamas," he says curtly, then pastes a wan smile to his face. She hands them over and watches as Eren struggles to put them on Hana; not because she is struggling, but because she is tired, her limbs slow and sluggish. After a few minutes he succeeds and he picks her up, grimacing as he expects her to start crying again. But now she is too tired, worn out from her squirming, and she rests her head against her father's shoulder. "That's my baby girl," Eren murmurs against her hair. He kisses the crown of her head. "That's my Hana-bear."

Mikasa leaves the room then, because she doesn't know if she can stand seeing any more.

"This is a really nice place," Eren says as turns off the light and closes Hana's door behind him. "But I've also spent the past few months sleeping outside."

She walks over to the couch, sits down. "I got a good job. Our old place was disgusting." The word feels foreign in her mouth. It feels like Levi's word. "I had to do it for Hana. She deserves better. I deserve better, too."

He snorts and takes a seat next to her. "You sound like a real adult."

"Please don't say that," Mikasa sighs, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to say something rude to you and I don't want to do that."

"What, because I'm a fake adult?" This is an argument they've had many times before, an insult Mikasa hurled at Eren more and more frequently as he contemplated his temporary escape.

She sighs. "Do you really want to have this conversation?"

"I think we're already having this conversation," he says.

Mikasa throws her hands up. "Fine, Eren. Here's the deal: you left me and your daughter for half a year to go travel around the world with your best friend. I had to support the both of us while you fucked around with Armin. On top of that, you lied to me and made me think that you weren't coming back at all, because you told me a month or two when it was really six. I had no idea what to think."

"Is that why Hana calls another man dad?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at her. "What the hell have you been up to these past six months?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I have nothing to hide," Eren states plainly, but then his face hardens and his voice gets louder as he expects a reply and doesn't receive one.. "Why won't you answer me? Is something going on?"

Her eyes widen. "Keep your voice down!" she says in a loud whisper.

"Don't fucking tell me to keep my voice down!" he roars. Before he finishes his sentence there is a tinny whimper, a cry. "What's that?"

"Baby monitor," Mikasa grumbles, getting to her feet. "You woke her up." Eren starts to stand. "Stay there. You've done enough." She walks into Hana's room and closes the door behind her. The room is dark, faintly illuminated by a nightlight in the corner. Hana is still lying down, but is making quiet fitful noises. Mikasa strokes Hana's hair and whispers some soothing gibberish until the baby's noises turn into soft sighs, deep breaths. "I love you," Mikasa whispers, a reminder.

"You didn't answer my question," Eren tells her when she comes back in the living room. She takes a seat next to him, just out of arm's reach.

"Because it's not worth answering."

"Tell me!"

Mikasa scratches the back of her head. Her words come out slow, measured. "What I did while you were away is none of your business. What does that have to do with you leaving, anyway? I had to get a new job because I couldn't afford to stay in that shithole we lived in and pay for day care while working 35 hours a week at a damn diner. I had to upend my entire life," Mikasa says. "I did what I needed to do to survive. Anything else is incidental. You haven't been here in months."

"We never broke up," he huffs. "I left on my trip."

"Maybe it felt that way to you. It didn't to me. You were barely even here before you left."

"I ruined everything, I know," he says. "But I'm back now and I want to set things right. I'm not giving up on you or Hana." He sighs, then scoots closer to her, then leans over and reaches out, running his fingers down the side of her cheek. "Please. Just be honest with me. Did anything happen while I was away?"

"No," she says, her eyes downcast.

He cups her cheek, guides her face so she is looking at him. "Mikasa. Look me in the eye."

Her gaze flicks up to his, focuses on those green eyes, the same shade as Hana's. She feels something in her chest, a warmth, but it is an image, a ghost of what she used to feel. She misses Eren, but it is the Eren of their teenage years, the Eren who'd climb trees with her, the Eren who told her he would take her around the world. Not the Eren who left her, the Eren who sits here doing his best impression of the person he wishes he could be.

"Yes," she whispers.

His hand falls away and he gets up, paces to the other end of the room, then back. "I can't fucking believe you!"

Mikasa rises as well. "Yeah, I can't believe I was so fucking stupid to think that letting you traipse around the world was going to salvage our relationship. You would have left if you'd stayed, so I thought it'd be better to let you go. And then you still lied to me! How was I supposed to know you still wanted to be with me? Everything you've said and done for the last six months says the opposite." Her voice breaks and she finds her eyes filling with tears. "You sent me postcards, Eren. I never knew where you were or what was happening to you. I thought you were never coming home."

Eren sighs and slouches, the wind taken out of his sails for the moment, at least. "How long has this been going on?" He looks affected by Mikasa's confession, but she notes with calm acceptance that he does not apologize.

"Only a couple of weeks, actually. I was too busy crying myself to sleep every night for the first three months to try to fuck anyone. Anyway, I'm sure you had your fair share of adventures on your little trip." She sniffles wetly, then swipes at her eyes with her fingertips, wiping her damp hands on her pants.

"No, actually," Eren mumbles. He presses his lips together, stifling a smile. "I did make out with Armin for free drinks when we were in Prague, but that was strictly platonic."

Mikasa rolls her eyes. "I'm glad you had fun while I raised our daughter alone." she snarls.

"It was just a joke." Eren plops down on the couch, seemingly too tired to stand and argue.

"This is serious. Hana doesn't even recognize you. She barely knows you. You've missed more than half her life so far and, let's be honest, you weren't doing much when you were here. You missed her first tooth, her first word, the first time she crawled, the first time she stood up. If you'd waited another month you'd probably miss her first steps." Her upper lip curls. "You're not even a father. You're a sperm donor."

He sucks in a few shaky breaths. "That really hurts, Mikasa." Eren says, looking down. "This whole thing really fucking hurts!"

Her anger bubbles over then, and she feels no sympathy in her heart, no signal in her brain telling her to stop. "Oh, you're hurt?  _You're_  hurt?" she taunts him. "I'm pretty sure you weren't crying yourself to sleep when you were hiking the Alps or whatever stupid bullshit you wanted to do instead of taking care of your daughter."

"I did cry. A lot. Ask Armin. I was so scared I would be a shitty father. But I'm ready now. I want to be there for Hana." Eren's eyes are glassy, shiny with tears. "I'm going to make it up to both of you."

Mikasa sighs. "By doing what? Just showing up? Changing a diaper every now and then when I ask you to?"

"Why won't you just let me try to do this?" he asks; his question starts as a shout but soon quiets, his voice wavering.

"Because it's too late. For me, anyway. You're lucky that Hana's not old enough to understand." She throws herself down on the couch next to Eren, spent.

He leans toward her, grips her upper arm in one long-boned hand. "I'm going to be a good father, Mikasa. I swear on my life." His eyes flash vermillion fire and his mouth is hard-edged, fierce.

Mikasa doesn't care. "Get your fucking hand off of me, Eren," she spits. Momentarily startled by her vitriol, Eren lets go. "I'm glad you want to try, but you need to show me, not tell me. Get a job. Get your own place."

"I will. I promise."

"I'm not giving you an indefinite window to crash on my couch. I'll give you a couple of months to get a job and save up enough money to get someplace nice."

Eren sighs. "So this is over, then." He points at her, then at himself, back and forth.

"I think it was over when you decided to leave. If not before that."

"No, come on, I don't think—" he starts, shaking his head.

Mikasa cuts him off, holds up one hand to stop him. "Would we still be together if I hadn't gotten pregnant? Do you really think we wouldn't have broken up by now if Hana hadn't been born?" He thinks for a few moments, scowling, then shakes his head slowly as his face relaxes. "I didn't think so."

"I do love you, Mikasa." His voice is low, almost a mumble. She wonders if he actually means what he says, then decides she no longer cares to delve into his words. "I really do."

"I know you do. Just not the way you should have," she sighs. "I still love you, too. I always will. But not in the same way. Not like I used to."

He sniffles once. "I'm sorry I let you down, but I promise I'll prove that you can trust me again. Maybe we could even start over."

Her mouth starts to turn into a frown but she resists it, forces a smile. "We'll see. Just be there for Hana, okay? Be a good dad."

"I will," he says, his jaw set and his gaze firm.

"You'd better." Mikasa narrows her eyes at him. "Or I will fucking kill you."


	5. Chapter 5

Tuesday comes around and Hana is not at the office. On Thursday, she is not there either. Over the weekend, Mikasa tells Levi she can't see him, as she and Eren are taking Hana to the zoo on Saturday and visiting Eren's father on Sunday.

"Why do you have to see Eren's father?" Levi asks, the annoyance in his voice crisply audible through Mikasa's phone.

"The Yeagers took me in when I was a kid. Eren's dad is my family, too. Grisha needs to hear from both of us that we're not together anymore," she explains.

Levi lets out a short sigh. "Fine. Whatever. Is Hana going to be back at the office next week?"

"On Thursday, yeah," she says. "Eren has a job interview. But until then he's on babysitting duty when Hana's not in day care. He's got a lot of bonding time to make up for."

 _Eren, Eren, Eren,_ Levi thinks. _It feels like Eren's all I ever fucking hear about anymore._ The thought nags at him, has been since Eren returned, but he knows better than to voice it to her. "I miss her."

"I know, but she needs to spend time with her father. You'll see her Thursday," she offers, though her mouth turns down into a worried frown after she hears herself. "Maybe we can do something next weekend," she adds.

And they do. On that Saturday morning, while Eren is asleep, Mikasa texts him to tell him that she's going to the park with Hana. It is not a lie, just an omission. Levi meets her there with a picnic blanket tucked under one arm and a plastic bag containing three tinfoil-wrapped sandwiches hanging from his fingers.

"Catered breakfast?" Mikasa asks with a smirk, peering into the bag as Levi spreads the blanket out on the grass.

"I know I said I was going to cook," he answers her, "but then I remembered all I had in the house was bread and peanut butter."

"Hana can't have that," she says, placing Hana down on the blanket and sitting next to her.

"What?"

"You can't feed babies peanut butter. They can choke. Hana's too young to be able to swallow it properly."

"Shit." He puts his hands on his hips, still standing over her. Mikasa leans back on her hands, looks up at him expectantly as he thinks. "Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be back."

"Sure you're not running away out of embarrassment?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Levi shakes his head. "Come on, I wouldn't do that."

"You did that after you kissed me for the first time," she shoots back with a sly smile.

He crouches down beside her. "But then I came back," he says, his voice husky, and takes her mouth in a fierce kiss. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty if service is slow. I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me," Mikasa replies.

He kisses her cheek, then leans in close to her ear. "No, but it'll give me bonus points for later, when you drop off Hana and let me fuck the shit out of you at my place."

"Don't talk like that around her," she warns him.

He raises his eyebrows. "Was that a no?"

"No," she replies, her cheeks starting to burn. "It wasn't."

He winks at her, then gets up and leaves. Sure enough, in fifteen minutes (actually seventeen, not that Mikasa was checking her phone every other minute) he returns with a different plastic bag, three styrofoam clamshell containers stacked inside. He sits down on the blanket and unpacks the bag; or he tries to, hampered in his effort by Hana crawling into his lap.

"Dada!" she chirps, reaching for his chin so she can grip it in her little fingers.

"Levi," he corrects her after a moment, his voice low and reluctant.

Mikasa watches them, then takes the bag from Levi, setting out the containers and opening them to reveal scrambled eggs and bacon in the first, pancakes in the second, and plates, plasticware, napkins, and containers of butter and maple syrup in the third. They all dig in, Hana perched in Levi's lap, eating little pieces of bacon that he hands to her. He feeds her bits of egg and syrup-soaked bites of pancake from his fork, dabbing at her mouth with a wet napkin. It is still a joyous and confusing thing, seeing the two of them together, Hana looking at Levi as though he is the greatest thing in the world, him doting on her in return. It still makes Mikasa want to cry.

"We have an audit coming up," he tells her when he's done eating. She fishes around in her bag for a wet wipe and Levi takes it from her, mopping Hana's sticky face. The baby sits there obediently.

Mikasa blanches. "Is it because of what happened in the hotel?"

"No, no," Levi reassures her. "We always go back and audit after an acquisition. It sucks, but it keeps the government from being up our collective ass all the time."

"That's good," she says, voice flat and unsure.

"Relatively. We're going to be swamped for the next month or two."

"What else is new?" she asks with a weak smile. "I'll have to look around for a babysitter if we'll be working after hours. Eren is probably going to get the job he interviewed for the other day."

Levi sighs. "Can we... Can we not? Talk about Eren, that is." He sets Hana down on the blanket; she crawls to the fringed edge of the fabric and starts pulling fistfuls of grass out of the ground. "It just pisses me off." He clenches his fists, then puts his hands in his lap as if to hide them.

"He's my kid's dad," Mikasa replies. "And he's crashing on my couch until he finds a new place. I can't exactly avoid him."

"No, but I can. I'd like to avoid him as much as possible because... well, you know how I feel." Levi reaches out and places what he hopes is a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I know. But you have to give him a chance. I still have to remind him to do his share of the diaper changing, but otherwise he's not actually doing that bad of a job."

"I guess that's a good thing." He sighs, a forceful exhalation with a sound behind it, his vocal cords thrumming in a noise that's not quite a growl. "I still can't get past him just leaving like that. I get furious about it and I think about how much I'd like to just..." He mimes a right cross, a quick and powerful thrust of his fist. "I would gladly beat the shit out of him if you asked me to. I'm ashamed to say it, but it's true."

"Levi, come on. You couldn't possibly, he's—"

He shrugs. "I know he's probably got a few inches on me. Doesn't matter. I could break his jaw. I would do it and I wouldn't care. I suppose that's a bad thing, but he has to learn." He runs one hand through his hair, mussing the dark strands. "Some people only understand physical pain. I'd hurt him in a way he understands."

"Because he hurt me?"

"Not just you. Hana, too."

"She won't remember," Mikasa says with a frown. She looks over at the baby, who has decided to focus her energy on crushing the empty styrofoam containers beneath her little hands. "She'll just know Eren and I split up when she was a baby."

"What about you, though? What about how hurt you are? You never think of yourself."

"I'm fine, Levi. Stop insisting I'm not. Yeah, it hurt, but I'm not alone. I have Hana. And I have you." She smiles, reaches out and caresses his face with one hand. Levi turns his head so he can kiss her palm. "Besides, If I thought Eren needed to get cracked across the face, I would have done it already. I'm not helpless."

He smirks. "You can fight?"

"Yeah. I haven't gotten in a fight since high school, though. I got suspended and almost missed graduation." She smiles at the memory. "I was valedictorian, so they kinda had to let me go."

"They didn't let number two in the class speak instead?"

"Armin was second, and he was involved in the incident. The guy I beat up was bullying him, so I may have picked this guy up and slammed him into a desk. Ere— a friend started circulating a petition to have people boycott graduation if I couldn't speak."

Levi looks at her for a moment, at the springtime sun reflecting off of her hair, the wry smile she wears. "Did you seriously lift an 18-year-old guy?"

"Yep," she says with a nod. "People loved to pick on Armin. No one likes a smart kid with a big mouth. So I would step in and let the bullies pick on someone who could fight back." She starts to say more, then stops. Levi would not care about her defending Eren as well.

He snickers. "We should spar."

"What, like boxing?"

"Yeah. I think you'd give me a run for my money. I'll take you to my gym sometime."

"I'd like that a lot," she says with a smile.

* * *

 

The last thing Mikasa wants is for Levi and Eren to meet. She remembers an experiment from the chemistry class she took in her sophomore year of high school, the teacher throwing tiny pieces of sodium into water so the kids could watch them shiver and explode, bubbling over and soaking the desktop.

She is not sure which of them is the water and which is the sodium. It doesn't matter; she is the glass beaker, and after enough explosions she will splinter and shatter. Her teacher, goaded on by the rapt gazes of previously inattentive students, failed to notice the ominous-looking cracks in the glass and disregarded the twin raised hands of Mikasa and Armin (always seated together at the front of the room, Ackerman and Arlert, by virtue of the alphabet) attempting to warn him of impending doom. He ignored them, upholding his policy of not letting those two know-it-alls in the front take up too much class time, and he paid for it.

The best way to prevent an explosion, she has decided, is to keep the two of them apart for as long as possible, if not indefinitely. There is no reason for Eren to meet the man he sees as his replacement or learn that the mystery man that Mikasa is seeing is, indeed, her boss. There is no reason for Levi to be confronted with the object of his contempt, to give him the opportunity to pummel Eren for his sins.

It is easy at first: Eren stays at her apartment, sending out résumés and scouring the classifieds for a new apartment. (He jokes about getting a job at Smith and renting in the same building as her. She stops him with a withering black glare.) During the day he watches Hana; at night, they share parenting duties. Occasionally on weekends, Mikasa has time to spend an afternoon with Levi, sometimes bringing Hana along.

Within two weeks of his return Eren is working again, driving around to different supermarkets and restaurants in the city to unionize their workers, spending his evenings making posters and phone calls. He gives Hana a square of cardboard and some markers so she can color alongside him while he works. Hana, in turn, returns to the office with Mikasa twice a week, unable to sit in her car seat or stay still while Eren tells people that they deserve more, tries to get them to agree to join up and fight. Levi says nothing about the change and does not ask why the baby has returned. He does not seem to care as long as he still gets to be around Hana, unable to hide his smile when he sees her.

About three weeks into Eren's tenure at the union, he has a rare day off on a Tuesday and has announced his intention to spend the entire day asleep, having worked seven days in a row. His efforts culminated in a large rally downtown, interrupting a city council meeting to protest the low minimum wage in the city. (Mikasa warned him not to get arrested, something he laughed off but later admitted that she had been right about, having gotten into an argument with a cop that required a coworker's intervention in order to keep Eren out of jail.) All week he has made phone calls, written emails, met with workers, talked to the press and politicians and police, and she has never seen him so tired. So she wishes him luck in his current venture, offering him the use of her bed for the day before she leaves for work, carrying Hana on her hip.

Hana is usually talkative when she is at the office, chattering on to herself, to Mikasa and Levi, to really anyone who passes into her field of vision; today she seems tired, listless. She pushes her plastic truck back and forth slowly with rapidly dwindling interest. Mikasa rests the back of her hand against the baby's forehead and finds her burning, her skin pale and clammy, so she goes to tell Levi she is dropping Hana off at home.

When she walks into his office, she is greeted by stacks of paper and scattered binders — and an absent Levi? No; he is hunched over behind them, scribbling incomprehensible notes and numbers on a legal pad, hidden by the wall of paperwork before him.

"I need you to go through these and organize them in chronological order," he tells her while gesturing to the rightmost pile, not looking up from his work. "By the time you're done that I'll have a better idea of what else I want you to do."

"Hana is sick," Mikasa replies. "I have to take her home."

"Isn't dear old dad around?"

She frowns. "Eren just worked straight through for a week. He's sleeping now."

"Then wake him up," Levi replies with a shrug. "I need you here." She peers at him, her eyes narrowed. "I'm not screwing with you. I actually need you here. We just got some of the financial paperwork back from the Dawktech acquisition and now we have to audit it."

"Shit," she says under her breath, surveying the stacks before her. "Is that it?"

"This," he says, sweeping his hand from one end of his paper fortress to the other, "is the first set of paperwork."

Mikasa groans. "Just kill me now."

"Nope. We kill each other or no deal."

"No deal, then. Anyway, I have to get Hana home," she says with a chuckle.

"Wake Eren up," Levi tells her. "And tell him to come get her. I'm serious. I need you in here or at your desk today. Don't even take too long in the bathroom. Shit your pants if you have to."

"You can't be serious about shitting my pants."

Levi rolls his eyes. "Of course not. I meant the rest of it."

"I'll call Eren," she says softly, then rushes out of his office to check on Hana. She lies on the floor, hugging her plastic truck, crying softly. Her whimpering is quietly pitiful; a knife to the gut. "C'mere." Mikasa bends down and picks up the baby, cradling her to her chest, rocking her. Hana whines a little before quieting and then rests her head on her mother's shoulder.

It takes seven minutes and nine tries to reach Eren. Mikasa paces around the outer office as she calls and calls again, Hana's weight sending her left side to sleep.

"Hello?" he asks, his voice thick with fatigue.

"Hey, it's me. Hana's sick. Feels like she's running a fever. Can you come get her?"

"Mikasa, come on, you know I've been—"

"I don't care, Eren. She's sick and she needs you to take care of her. I've got a huge project at work and I can't leave."

He sighs. "Fine. I'll come by."

"I need you to come in the office and get her. Just go to the front desk and say you're there to see me, and they'll tell you where to go."

"Is it cool if I stop and get a coffee first? I don't want to drive half-asleep with Hana in the car," he says, punctuating his words with a yawn.

"Yeah, good idea. Just try to get here as quickly as you can, please."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Eren."

"No problem. I mean, this is kind of my job, isn't it? For the next eighteen years, at least."

"Yeah, it is. Now you're starting to get it," she says with a soft chuckle. They say their goodbyes and Mikasa puts her phone down, then picks it up again to text Levi. _Eren's coming to get her. He'll be here soon._

He waits five minutes before texting back a single letter: _K._

She means it as a warning, not an invitation, so it is a surprise when Levi comes out of his office ten minutes later, carrying a thick binder. "We need to review this," he says, tossing the binder onto her desk. It lands with a thud, which makes Hana whine from her spot on the floor. "Sorry, kiddo," he says with a tinge of what sounds like actual regret in his voice.

"What's up?" Mikasa asks cautiously as Levi flips to a page somewhere near the middle of the binder. He braces his left hand on the back of her chair, his palm flat against the leather, and strokes her upper back gently with his thumb. A faint smile plays across her lips as Levi points to a chart of Dawktech's annual budget and asks her if she remembers whether Nile gave them a breakdown of their revenues across different operating systems.

They work together like that, huddled together, heads down, Levi occasionally caressing her even as he reviews their work. The cadence of his words never betrays the flush he starts to feel beneath his collar or the mild worry he feels about Hana, who dozes a few feet away.

"Hey, Mikasa," Eren's voice interrupts. He sounds unsure, tentative, as though he has stumbled upon something he was never supposed to see.

Mikasa's head snaps up and she leans forward in her chair, away from Levi's touch. "Hey, Eren," she replies. "Thanks for coming to get Hana."

"Hi," he says, acknowledging Levi with a curt nod. "Eren Yeager." He sticks out his right hand for Levi to shake. Levi hesitates for a split second, then takes Eren's hand and grips it firmly.

"Nice to meet you," he recites. "Levi Ackerman."

"Hah!" Eren laughs. "You guys related?" he asks, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. Mikasa and Levi both stare at him from the other side of the desk, wearing identical glowers. "You must get that a lot," he mumbles.

Levi shrugs but makes no move to speak. "I've heard it enough that it stopped being funny a while ago," Mikasa answers. "I'm sure Levi feels the same." Levi nods, his lips pursed.

Eren joins in and nods as well, more a nervous gesture than anything else. He crouches down, gets on his hands and knees in front of Hana.

"Hey, Hana," he singsongs, rubbing his thumb over her soft cheek. He frowns, her skin is hot beneath his touch. "Come on, let's go home." He reaches out and picks up the drowsy child, positioning her so she can rest her head on his chest as he stands.

"Daaa," Hana whines softly.

Eren smiles, uses his free hand to stroke the baby's damp hair. "It's okay, Daddy's here." He looks over at Levi and Mikasa; she seems to be sitting straighter than before. Levi in particular looks like he is trying not to react, barely suppressing a frown at the sight of Hana in the arms of a man he's dreamed of punching. Eren is unsure why Mikasa's boss seems so uncomfortable until he glances over at her. Mikasa looks worried, her eyes wide open, her lips either pursed or pouting, but it is not Hana in her sight — it is Levi.

"Daaa," the baby repeats.

"Yeah, Daddy's gonna take you home," Eren says, but he sounds distracted. _She sees my boss a lot,_ he remembers Mikasa telling him. _She calls him Dada. She does it to a lot of guys._ Mikasa looks away from Levi, her face losing that raptness — as though her boss is the only person in the room, at least for that moment.

Eren knows that gaze well. It's the way she used to look at him.

"Where's her diaper bag?" he asks, gritting his teeth, not bothering to hide the rushing tsunami of fury that threatens to overtake him. Eren tries to focus on the soft weight in his arms, the feel of Hana's hot breath against his neck, his sick baby girl half-asleep in his arms. It calms him, but only a little.

Mikasa furrows her brow at him as she watches him try to keep his composure. "It's on the floor by the coat rack over there." She gestures toward the doorway. "Are you okay?"

"Better than ever, Mikasa," he fumes. "It's good to finally put a face to the guy who helped my girlfriend and the mother of my child cheat on me."

She sighs. When her voice finally comes it is soft, weary. "I didn't cheat on you, Eren. You left me."

"You left the kid, too—" Levi interjects.

"Stay out of this," Eren snaps, holding up his free hand.

Levi lets out a huff. "Fine. Do you want something to eat, Mikasa? I'll go pick something up."

"Yeah, whatever," she answers. "You know what I like." Levi is already walking away before she finishes speaking, his legs carrying him quickly away from her and Eren.

"I can't believe this," Eren spits once Levi has departed. "Your boss?"

She pauses for a few moments, trying to decide if she should deny his accusation. She settles on telling him the truth; it is more than he has done for her. "He's been good to me. He's been good to Hana, too," Mikasa replies. "You'd been gone for more than five months before anything happened."

He inhales and exhales deeply, holding himself perfectly still. "We'll talk about this when you get home," he says in a measured tone.

"Good idea." Mikasa nods in agreement. "I really didn't want you two to meet," she adds a moment later.

Eren looks at her with his eyes narrowed to slits. "It's a bit too late for that now."

* * *

 

 _Can't even keep your cool around a fucking kid_ , Levi thinks. _A deadbeat dad, piece of shit kid._ He sighs and buries his face in his hands. He has come to the only place where he knows he will be alone: the parking garage adjoining the building, sitting on the trunk of his car with his feet resting atop the back bumper.

His spine turns to steel when he hears footsteps approaching, then a familiar whine. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he hisses into his cupped hands. Levi keeps his head down, hoping Eren doesn't notice him, hoping Hana doesn't cry out for him.

"Jeez, Hana, you weigh a ton," Eren grunts as he approaches his car. "What has Mikasa been feeding you? Bricks?"

"It's because she's a lot bigger than when you left her," Levi wants to say, but he thinks better of it. Beating Eren, as much as he wants to, as much as Levi believes that it will ultimately be good for him, will only serve to make Mikasa angry. Levi has been on the receiving end of vengeful fists before, for offenses both imagined and real, and credits those incidents with his ability to stop his tongue. He has learned quite, quite thoroughly when to shut up, and morbidly thanks his mother's deadbeat boyfriends and the bigger kids on his street for teaching him that lesson. It is saving him right now. Perhaps he will actually be able to emerge from this incident unscathed. From his vantage point he sees Eren's sneakered feet pass by him and he lets out a relieved breath.

"Hey," Eren calls. Levi says nothing, keeps looking at the ground. "I know you can hear me."

"What do you want?" he asks, lifting his head and scanning the parking lot. He finds Eren parked across the aisle from him, one spot over.

Eren opens the back passenger door to his car (a tiny, rickety-looking blue hatchback with a rust spot on the roof, Levi notes), then tosses the diaper bag in. "Are you fucking Mikasa?" he asks, his voice low and deadly.

Levi smirks. "I think you already know the answer, but I could spell it out for you if you're having trouble with it."

"Fuck you," Eren spits, then turns his attention to Hana as he tries to strap her into her car seat. He is still unused to the tangled straps and buckles and spends a few minutes fiddling around with them. He manages to get Hana mostly secure, save for the buckle that is supposed to tether her to the seat. He attempts to get the thing to click into its corresponding metal piece, but the buckle closes over it and then stops, refusing to close and latch. Eren tries it a few times, slamming plastic against metal. Hana whimpers, threatening tears if this keeps up.

"Need help?" Levi asks only somewhat sarcastically.

"Don't fucking talk to me," Eren calls, not bothering to look up.

"You need to hold the red button down when you're buckling her in," Levi tells him. "Otherwise the thing won't latch."

Eren does so, seething as the buckle slides into place and makes a secure click when he takes his finger off of the button. "You stay away from Hana," he growls, pointing at Levi as he approaches the other man. He leaves the baby in the car, the back door still wide open. "And Mikasa, too. I'm back now, so I don't need you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You've done enough."

"I've done enough?" Levi asks, his voice high-pitched with incredulity as he gets down from his seat, standing before Eren in a solid, steady stance. "Me. Yeah, the bad guy here is the one who helped the single mom and her kid." The conversation is stupid and pointless, he tries to tell himself, but what is left of his pride cannot stand to be insulted in this way, not after everything he's tried to do.

Eren narrows his eyes. "You took advantage of Mikasa."

Levi laughs, a bitter, hollow sound. "That's funny. Because to me it sounds like you took advantage of the kindness of a woman who loved you so much she let you fuck off around the world while she worked herself half to death. But no, I'm the villain here. Not the guy who abandoned his girlfriend and their baby."

"I did _not_ abandon them," Eren replies through clenched teeth.

"You left for six months when you said you'd be gone for one or two. You couldn't be bothered send Mikasa a three-word email to let her know you were alive. I mean, postcards? Are you kidding me? If that's not abandonment, I don't know what is." Eren says nothing, just stares at him, his eyes burning into Levi's. Levi isn't afraid but his guts still churn with rage, so he decides to go in for the kill. "I took care of her and Hana while you partied. I did it, not you. That's why Hana calls me Dad. Because I'm more of a father to her than you'll ever be."

He doesn't make a move, doesn't even flinch when Eren goes to hit him. The kid's not a good fighter, he thinks; Eren yells, then charges toward Levi with his fist pulled back, plainly telegraphing his intentions. The punch lands on the side of Levi's mouth, sharp knuckles digging into his flesh, tearing into it. He feels his lip split, hot blood wetting his mouth as the fist retreats.

Eren lets out a triumphant, "Hah!" at his handiwork, at the crimson smear that appears at the corner of Levi's mouth, blooming and spreading. "How do you like that, motherfucker?" he shouts. Levi looks at him, at the emerald fire in his eyes, then sticks out his tongue and swipes some of the blood away from his lower lip. He shrugs off his blazer, folding it in half, then tosses it on top of the trunk of his car. After that he pops out his cufflinks quickly and efficiently, stowing them in his pocket so he can roll up his sleeves, exposing leanly muscled forearms. "You done?" he asks.

"Not even close," Eren replies.

Before Eren's words have a chance to fully leave his mouth, Levi takes a single step backwards and then explodes forward, faster than Eren can see or react, driving his fist deep into the younger man's stomach. He lets out a loud "Oof!" and doubles over, which gives Levi the opportunity to smash his other fist into Eren's nose, then step back and jab one elbow between his shoulder blades. He drops to his hands and knees, groaning. "I'm glad you hit me," Levi says, looking down at Eren. "That way I can tell Mikasa I was defending myself when I kick the shit out of you like you deserve." Levi brings one leg back, aiming for Eren's ribs, and lets his foot fly. It stops an inch before it strikes Eren's body, his ankle trapped in a firm grasp.

Eren yanks with all his might, sending Levi toppling to the ground, landing on his back on the concrete. Levi grimaces then, not at the pain that radiates through his back — that is temporary, he reminds himself — but at the thought of his pristine white shirt ruined with whatever filth covers the parking garage floor. Levi tries to get up but Eren clambers on top of him before he can leap to his feet. He bucks beneath Eren, trying to knock him away. When that doesn't work, Levi makes a short jab with his left fist and hits Eren in the jaw. His head snaps back with the force of the blow but still he holds fast, pinning his opponent beneath his legs. Eren draws his fist back, ready to repay Levi in kind, eyes gleaming above his blood-spattered and already-bruising nose. Levi squints his eyes mostly closed and braces himself, waiting for the right moment to dodge, but the punch does not come. When he opens his eyes fully, Eren is not there.

He leaps to his feet and spots Eren a few steps away, crawling to his feet, so he pulls back and prepares to let another punch go, trying to collect every ounce of potential energy that he can summon. He wants to punch Eren's lights out, leave him sprawled on the ground to contemplate his punishment. (In this moment, consumed by the tempest of his rage, he completely forgets about Hana, cannot hear her shrieking and wailing from the car.) So he lets his fist go and feels it being engulfed in a hand, surrounded by familiarly soft skin, then feels a vicious sharp pain behind his left knee, something like the pointed toe of a shoe. And then he is going down again, his back slamming against the concrete. He grunts in pain, then looks up to see who did this.

It is then that he sees Mikasa standing over him, her dark eyes alight with pure, unadulterated rage.

" _What the fuck is going on?!_ " she shrieks, whipping her head around to address the both of them.

"What the shit, Mikasa?" Eren sputters, bracing himself against the trunk of a nearby car as he stumbles to his feet. Blood and saliva spray from his lips as he tries to find the words located somewhere in his achy, ringing head. "Did you just _throw_ me?"

"I'll do it again if you don't tell me why the _fuck_ you two are beating the living hell out of each other while my daughter is screaming her head off in a hot car!" Her chest heaves with ragged breaths. It is then that the two men look over at Eren's car, one door still open, allowing Hana's continuous shrieks to echo throughout the parking garage.

"You know what, forget about it," Mikasa says, throwing up her hands. "I don't want to hear whatever bullshit excuse either of you comes up with. Eren, get out of here. You can handle Hana's screaming for once. I'll deal with you when I get home." She walks over to Levi, yanks him roughly to his feet. She turns around to see where Eren is; he still stands there, seemingly frozen in place. " _Now_ , Eren!" she booms. He scurries off, slamming Hana's door and then getting in the car. His tires squeal against the concrete as he peels off.

"And you," she snarls, turning back to Levi, "had better go out and get me something to eat like you promised, and then we are going to have a _long_ talk." Levi nods silently, solemnly, and watches Mikasa stalk off to her car. She opens the trunk, reaches in, and grabs a brown accordion file marked "DAWKTECH 1Q FINANCIALS." When she slams the trunk back down, Levi's car is gone.

It is then and only then that she lets her face fall, that she cries the bitter tears she's been hiding; sobbing at the realization that, once again, a man she loves has let her down.

* * *

 

Mikasa is not sure how she is just supposed to go back to work after seeing Eren and Levi grappling on the floor of the parking garage, both bruised and bleeding. Her tears have long since dried but her heart still races and her head swims with possibilities for what to do next.

The first thing she does is update her résumé. (That is, after she spends a few moments silently cursing her situation before realizing that she is not so much angry as exhausted from the mental gymnastics of living with one of them and working with the other, raising a child with one and forming a unit with the other, loving both of them as they grew to hate each other.) There are a few posts on the Smith internal jobs board; she applies to all of them, even the ones for which she is woefully underqualified, lacking advanced degrees and credentials. She does not care. At this point she is willing to clean toilets all day if it means never having to witness anything like this again, never having to feel like she's being torn in two.

As she is sending off the last application, Mikasa's phone rings. The caller ID reads OPERATOR, the front desk. "Call for you," the receptionist informs her after she picks up.

"Who is it?"

"He didn't say."

"Put him through," Mikasa says, not bothering to hide her irritation. She thinks it's probably Eren, judging by the six missed call notifications on her cell phone, but Nile has called a few times without notice so she decides not to pick up the phone and answer with, "What the fuck do you want?"

"Levi Ackerman's office," she chirps, the phrase rolling off of her tongue in a practiced cadence.

"Mikasa, finally," Eren says, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for like fifteen minutes."

She grits her teeth. "What is it now, Eren?"

"I've never taken care of a sick baby before. She's just crying and crying." His voice wavers, starts to break. "I don't know what to do."

"Now you know what it felt like for me. Look, I have a lot of work to do. I gotta go."

"Mikasa, please!" he pleads. "I need help! What should I do?"

"GOOGLE IT, EREN," she bellows into the receiver, then slams it down on its cradle. Her chest rises and falls as her breath hisses in and out of her nostrils. Mikasa clenches her fists, unclenches them, then reaches for one of the pencils that sits in a cup on her desk. She holds it in both hands, then briskly snaps it in half.

She is still holding the pencil halves in her white-knuckled hands when Levi walks in with their lunch. There is a cut on the side of his mouth, crusted-over crimson surrounded by the faint yellow-purple of a mild bruise. His lower lip is split as well; a dark line bisects the soft pink skin there. "Sushi," he says, resting a plastic bag on her desk, not quite meeting her eyes when he speaks to her. He reaches in and starts pulling out plastic containers. "I got you salmon avocado. And that eel thing you like." A plastic container full of milky miso soup follows, dark strands of seaweed swimming through the broth. "Soup, too." He fishes out a pair of bamboo chopsticks in a white wrapper, a few packets of soy sauce, a plastic spoon.

Mikasa glares up at him silently as she watches him unload her food. "Thank you," she says after a few moments. Levi opens his mouth to reply, to try to talk to her, but thinks better of it. So he nods and silently walks into his office to eat his lunch alone. He emails her her assignments for the rest of the day.

At four fifty-five, she makes Levi a cup of Earl Grey, thinking he will be staying late to sort through the reams of paper that line his desk. At four fifty-eight, when she brings him his steaming mug (white ceramic, "I Hate Whatever Today Is" printed on one side in black block letters) she finds him putting on his blazer, his leather briefcase already packed and ready to go.

"You're leaving?" Mikasa asks, setting the mug down on the coaster he leaves out for her.

Levi adjusts his collar, then sits back down in his chair. "I guess not, now. I figured you'd want to discuss what happened and I could catch you on the way out."

"I appreciate it," she replies grimly, her frowning face a stark counterpoint to her words. "I'll be leaving in ten minutes or so. You can follow me back to my place in your car." Her voice is soft, dispassionate, and she does not leave any room for a response when she immediately turns on her heel and stalks out of the room. Levi watches her go, blowing on his tea to cool it before taking a small sip. As always, she's brewed it perfectly.

When they arrive at Mikasa's apartment twenty minutes later, Eren is lying on the couch, resting his bare feet over one armrest. He has a bag of frozen vegetables wrapped around his face, covering his nose and mouth. Peeking out from under the bag are a pair of crescent-moon bruises beneath his eyes, the skin swollen and mottled purple. His eyes widen in surprise as he watches the two of them come in. "Oh, come on!" he exclaims, pulling the bag off and jumping to his feet. "Did you bring him over to rub it in my face or have him finish the job from earlier?"

Mikasa rolls her eyes. "Neither. How's Hana?"

"Sleeping, finally," he answers, weary. "I gave her some medicine and a cool bath. I think she's getting better."

She nods. "Thanks. Look, I need the apartment to myself. Go see a movie or something. I have to talk to Levi."

"I live here too—" he starts to say.

"When's the last time you paid rent?" she snaps, cutting him off.

Eren's lips start to move, his expression darkening at her insult, but he thinks better of it and settles for a curt nod as a response. "Fine. Text me when I can come back." He gets up, pats his pockets to make sure he has his wallet, phone, and keys, and slips on his shoes. He makes it a point to ignore Levi as he walks by him, out of the apartment, into the warm spring night.

"When's the last time _you_ paid rent here?" Levi teases after he hears the door close.

"Now's not the time." Mikasa quirks one side of her mouth into an almost-smile. "But you're right."

He chooses not to rub it in; he's in no position to do it. "So," he says. "I guess we should talk."

"You know how I feel," she replies. She sucks in a shaky breath, lets it out. "So talk."

He falls silent, trying to figure out something diplomatic to say. "I didn't start the fight," he blurts. Mikasa looks at him, her mouth drawn into a skeptical line. "He hit me first." Levi frowns when he hears himself, his tone petulant and sullen. "That sounds bad. But he did take the first swing."

"Did you let him?"

His eyes widen for a moment before he resumes a neutral expression. "I could have dodged him. I could have walked away. But... I didn't want to."

"Uh-huh," she says, nodding.

"And I taunted him about it."

Mikasa snorts. "Nice, Levi," she says sarcastically. "Really nice. Did you also ream him out for leaving?"

"I may have." She plops down on the couch, seemingly too exhausted to stand, and folds her arms over her chest. Levi sits down next to her, waiting for her to respond. She does not. "I told him I'm more of a father to Hana than he is," he admits.

"Levi—" Mikasa says.

"I was the closest thing she had to a father for months." He says this confidently, decisively, his eyes direct and focused on hers.

She looks down, away from his straight steely gaze, but she still feels it cutting into her. "I don't want to talk about this. Just don't let her call you that anymore, please."

"I don't, but she still does sometimes. You know it hurts me too, right?" he asks. "Have you considered that maybe I've bonded with her, and that it sucks to see Eren just waltz back in like nothing happened? Even the baby can see what I've done for her." Levi frowns, shakes his head.

"I have considered that, and I love that you and Hana get along so well." She looks over at him. "But you are not her father."

"I spend time with her. I'm your fucking babysitter at work, Mikasa." Levi spits. "I employ you, so the money you spend on her food and diapers and toys and shit comes from me."

"It comes from the company," Mikasa replies, but she cannot keep a slight edge from creeping into her tone. Levi may be her boss and her quasi-boyfriend, but she feels as though this is a conversation neither of them should be having, the once-clear boundaries between them blurring and fading in ways she has always wanted to avoid.

He nods. "Oh, the company pays most of it. Haven't you noticed that your checks have been a little heavier than you expected?"

"I have," she says tentatively.

"It comes out of my paycheck. It has since the beginning. I lobbied for you to get more when you were hired but Erwin said it wasn't in the operating budget. So I made up the difference."

Mikasa's head lowers. "So you're paying me extra."

"Yeah," he admits.

"Because you feel bad for me?" she asks, looking over at him with narrowed eyes.

His voice raises a notch. "No, no!" he answers, holding up both hands. "Well, yes. But only because I've been there. I remember my mom struggling, and I remember what it did to me."

"You turned out fine."

"More or less, but I would have been a hell of a lot better with a dad and a nicer home instead of a bunch of broken promises."

"Everyone's fucked up, Levi," Mikasa sighs. "And Hana has a dad already."

He leans closer to her. "The two people who support Hana the most, who love her the most, are you and me. Not her sperm donor," he insists, speaking in a low, firm voice, his eyes like iron.

It does not faze her at all. "Her _father_ ," she corrects him. "What do you think you were going to do, buy yourself a ready-made family like it's a car or a house or a whole fucking company?"

Levi shakes his head. "No! I care about you, both of you. I wanted— I want to help you."

"Then you need to back off. Eren deserves to have a chance to raise his daughter. Hana deserves to spend time with her father. I have to do what's in her best interests."

There is something in her tone, a distancing but also an undercurrent of aggression, that sets him off. "Her father? What's the last fatherly thing he's ever done for her? Huh? How many times did he play with her, or hug her, or change her diaper before he finally deigned to come back?"

"You changed her diaper?" she asks, wrinkling her nose in disbelief.

He stares her down for a few moments before nodding. "I did when we were on the trip. Twice, actually, while you were busy with something else. It was a fucking nightmare."

"I'm honestly impressed," she snorts.

"I changed her disgusting, shitty diaper regardless of every alarm flashing in my brain that said not to, because I care about that little brat. And I care about you. I wasn't about to inconvenience you just because I wanted to throw up on her. When's the last time Eren did anything like that?"

"He's doing it right now," she counters. "He watches her. He plays with her. He feeds her. And yeah, he changes diapers. He's not great at it, but he's trying. Things are getting better."

"And before that?"

Mikasa throws up her hands. "What, do you want me to tell you you're right?"

"That's a start," he says with a smirk.

"Don't be glib. You know you're right, Levi. That's not the point!" Her voice starts to waver. "How was I supposed to explain all of this to him?" Mikasa lets out a reluctant sob. She swipes away tears from her eyes with her fingertips and inhales sharply through her nose, silencing herself. "I had to have that conversation alone. And now I have to deal with this alone, because you and Eren apparently can't be in the same room without wanting to kill each other. You can't buy my way out of this."

Levi watches her for a few moments before he realizes he should do something. He leans toward her, puts one hand on her shoulder. "It's his fault, not yours. He's the one who left." He pauses. Mikasa takes a few shaky breaths. "I'm glad he left," he adds softly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have met you."

She inhales sharply, eyes wide with shock as she looks down at him. Her lips spread into a weak smile. "Look, I know you're right about Eren leaving," she says, "but he came back. I have to give him a chance. You can't get in the way of that, no matter what you think of him. I have to be there for Hana first, and what Hana needs is to bond with her father. You can't just beat the shit out of him on my behalf because you think that's what's right."

Levi crosses his arms. "Look. I think about me and you, about the three of us and it just… feels right. I know that sounds stupid, but I don't know what else to call it. And then I think about him, about what he did, and I get so fucking angry. I want to kill him for what he did to you and Hana. I just don't understand how you can let him in. Who knows if he'll do this again?"

"That doesn't matter. He's staying as far as I know. Hana needs him, Levi."

"No, she doesn't." As soon as he's opened his mouth and he hears the words he has just spoken, his guts twist with the knowledge that this counterpoint, delivered with supreme confidence, is the worst thing he could possibly say.

Mikasa must feel it too, because a fire lights in her eyes and her voice fills with venom. She shrugs out of his grasp before she answers him. "Don't you dare tell me what my daughter needs."

"I didn't—"

"No, you did. You think just because you can show up and pay for things, that that gives you more of a right to Hana than her own father? You think you're taking care of me because you hold Hana sometimes and throw money at me without even telling me, like you're my fucking _benefactor_?" She sighs, closes her eyes for a moment. "You've helped me a lot, which I appreciate, but I don't need saving. I never did."

Levi frowns, chastised. "I was trying to help. I'm not apologizing for my intentions."

"If you really want to help me, then stop. If Eren is trying to be a good dad then I need to let him. I'm not going to let you interfere with that." She sighs, looks at him with big dark eyes brimming with tears. "Look, I like you, Levi. I really do. Maybe even more than that. But I'm always, _always_ going to love Hana more."

"I'm not asking you to love me more, Mikasa," he says, his voice soft, weary.

"Aren't you, though?" she asks. He looks up at her, his eyes shining, but says nothing. It is all the confirmation she needs. "I think you should go," Mikasa tells him, her voice almost a whisper. She leans over and kisses him once, her lips firm against his.

Levi reaches for her to pull her closer, to never let her go, but his hand closes around empty air. She is already up and walking away.


	6. Chapter 6

"I think you should go." The phrase echoes in Levi's head, Mikasa's voice so cold and distant. At the door, he couldn't bring himself to try to kiss her. There was a hardness in her dark eyes that told him she would have turned away from him if he had. It's better that he didn't bother to try, he tells himself. Seeing Mikasa recoil from him would have been too much.

For the rest of the week, they exchange as few words as possible. When he asks her if she's free that weekend while they're both sitting in his office, she's evasive for a few moments before she mumbles something about maybe Sunday afternoon.

"Are you avoiding me?" he asks pointedly.

Mikasa looks at the floor before her gaze returns to his. "I'm still mad at you, Levi."

Levi sighs, his brow furrowing into an annoyed expression before he tucks it away, tries to be neutral. (He is semi-successful in this endeavor.) "Still?" he asks. She nods. Levi rubs his hand against his forehead, trying to calm the headache that starts to throb at his temples. "Look," he says, gazing up at her, hoping his eyes look more earnest than hurt. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

He frowns. "For hurting you."

"You've done a lot more than that," Mikasa replies, rising to her feet. "I'll see you on Monday."

Over the weekend, she is slow to respond to his text messages, and her replies are shorter than usual. One exception: on Saturday afternoon, apropos of nothing, she texts him a picture of Hana, her face smeared with blue icing, the crumbled remains of a cupcake in her hands. The picture makes him grin, imagining how much the baby must have enjoyed it, what her little laugh must have sounded like. The thought soon sobers him and he lets out a weary sigh, then gets changed and goes to the gym to take out his emotions (which ones, he cannot tell; it is as though he is feeling all of them and none of them at once) on a punching bag.

He comes out of this fog slowly as the next week begins, throwing himself into his work to keep from thinking about Mikasa, about whatever is left between them, about Hana, about Eren. He still finds himself pausing in the midst of his day, staring at his computer screen blankly, forgetting what he was supposed to be working on.

By the time Erwin calls him into the quarterly senior executive meeting the week after that, Levi is fraying, coming apart at the seams. It has been more than two weeks since he and Mikasa have exchanged more than a few friendly-but-distant words, since they have kissed, since they have made love. He has been sleeping less than three hours a night, sometimes not at all, and the shadows beneath his eyes get darker each day.

He doesn't want to sleep because the moments between his head hitting the pillow and his eyes finally closing stretch to minutes and then hours, giving him ample time to think about how much he misses Mikasa, how much it stings to see her nearly every day and feel the gulf between them. How he has no idea what to do to get her to love him again, aside from letting Eren in, from letting him inevitably fuck up again and hurt the two people he cares about more than most other things in his life. The thought of it wrenches his guts more than the thought of never being able to hold her or Hana in his arms again.

Levi keeps this thought in his head until it is trapped there, constantly angry at himself for allowing his life to slip from his grasp to the point where he's stuck in his own mind, turning over memories like stones to try to divine some sort of plan of action. He has not felt this lost, this powerless, since he was a child. It is the same impotent anger he felt at the shitty boyfriends who hit his mother, at the shop clerks who consistently ignored her, at the cancer that killed her. It is a burning rage, scorching and charring him inside, because in over three decades he has still not been able to find a way to displace the flames.

Erwin's voice, booming slightly louder than usual (perhaps noticing his inattention? Levi wonders, panicking for a brief moment), ends his distraction. "All right. Thanks for that report, Nanaba. I'm excited to see what this project will look like at next quarter's meeting," Erwin says, picking up the small remote that rests next to his right hand.

He clicks it and the projector in the room whirs to life, shining a Powerpoint slide marked "AATM Candidates" onto a screen that hangs front and center in the room. The executives seated around the long mahogany table look up at it, all except for Levi, who pretends to be following the printed agenda that he holds in his hands, rolling the corners of the paper between his fingers until they darken and curl inward. Levi starts to feel uncharacteristically warm, so he shrugs off his blazer and gently hangs it over the back of his chair.

"We've got to go through and choose ten employees for the Accelerated Associate to Management program. We had an unprecedented sixty-five applications for this year's AATM class. Keiji and Gunther have been kind enough to narrow them down to the top twenty." Erwin clicks the remote again to reveal a slide on the first candidate, some sweaty, awkward-looking kid from the Real Estate department.

The executives argue for a few minutes, some saying that he looks like a mess from his picture, that he can't possibly be considered to run a department five years down the line. Others point toward his flawless track record in the year he's been in Real Estate, undercutting a rival firm for a hotly-contested building contract. Levi watches them speak, barely comprehending their words, and is relieved when Erwin cuts everyone off and asks for a vote. Levi raises his hand, as do four others, and the kid is accepted. This goes on, Erwin bringing up another candidate, some spirited debate, then a show of hands, far past the point where Levi can even pretend to pay attention.

"Levi, we'll especially want your input with this candidate," Erwin says after the twelfth slide, clicking the remote once more to advance the presentation.

"Hm?" he asks, inclining his head toward Erwin. "I'm sorry, got distracted with something for the Dawktech audit." He picks up his phone and taps the darkened screen for a few moments, pretending to write himself a note. "My apologies. Did we come to a consensus on Reiner Braun?" He looks up at the slide to see Mikasa's personnel picture smiling down at him. Levi swallows, his throat suddenly parched.

"We voted on Reiner already; he's in. We're on Mikasa Ackerman now," Erwin says, one thick eyebrow arching in mild annoyance.

"Mikasa Ackerman?" he repeats unconsciously. "Oh, yes," he says, as if remembering something.

"You sound surprised," Mike notes.

Levi's mind searches for the most obvious excuse. "I wasn't sure she'd make it this far, honestly. She doesn't have a background in business or technology."

"So she applied with your knowledge, then? Why is that?" Hanji asks, cocking her head.

"I encouraged her to apply," he lies smoothly, drawing on his years of experience with intractable investors. "Her talents are wasted as a secretary." That much, at least, is true. It stings, the thought of her planning her escape, but the last thing he wants to do is ruin her chance at a better job because he feels slighted.

"She did work closely with you during the Dawktech acquisition," Erwin notes. "And Nile seemed to like her a lot. Although it is fairly unusual for us to promote from within like this," he continues, "especially since Mikasa has no formal experience with this position. How long has she been with you?"

"Six months or so, maybe a little more?" Levi answers, pursing his lips as he does the mental math.

Gunther frowns. "I wish I'd have known that when I picked her," he grumbles from across the table.

"Talent is talent," Levi counters. "She was instrumental in getting Dawktech on board with Smith. She's basically done all the work of a first-year associate already, and she's succeeded above and beyond my already pretty damn high expectations."

"A secretary that good, and you're willing to give her up?" Mike asks, a skeptical look on his face.

 _You have no idea_ , Levi thinks. "She would best serve the company elsewhere. She's head and shoulders above every secretary I've ever had, but she's too damn smart to be rotting away in an admin position."

"And you're not just trying to get rid of her," Hanji adds with a smile.

"If I wanted her gone, I'd fire her," Levi replies brusquely. "I've never been shy about firing a secretary before."

"That's true," Nanaba pipes up. "You went through three last year, right?"

He shakes his head. "Two. The one before that, she left in November of the previous year. Look, when did this turn into an interrogation of the people I hire? We're discussing Mikasa's qualifications for the program. I already know she'd be good for this. I wouldn't have suggested she apply if I didn't think so. You people can talk amongst yourselves. I need to piss." He gets up and saunters out of the room, not even bothering to put his blazer back on.

Levi pushes the men's room door open with the heel of his hand, sending it flying back against the door-stop that is mounted on the wall. He stalks into the room and then into the larger of the two stalls, closing and locking the door behind him. Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, he uses it to close the toilet lid and sinks down on top of it, resting his head in his hands.

 _You told her to go_ , he thinks.

_But when I told her that, it was so we could see each other. Maybe she's doing this so we can be together again._

_Or she hates you and wants to leave._

He sucks in a shaky breath, eyes stinging with unshed tears. These past couple of weeks have been unbearable, even more so now that Mikasa is barely there to listen to him, to stroke the closely-cropped hair at his nape when he gets upset, to offer solutions when she knows what to do about his problem, to sympathize and kiss him when she does not. No, he thinks, it is not that he does not know what to do. It's just that he can't go back in time and un-punch Eren, can't take back the things he said at Mikasa's apartment.

He's also not sure whether he would, if given the chance.

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose roughly between two fingers and breathes deeply until his breaths even out and become normal again. Then he gets up, washes his hands, splashes a little water on his reddened face, and gets ready to face the other senior managers.

"Just in time," Erwin says as Levi walks in the door.

"Did she get it?" he asks.

Erwin shakes his head. "No."

"Oh." Levi frowns a little, surprisingly disappointed.

"Well, not yet," Erwin clarifies. "We're actually at a stalemate, four and four. You get to be the tiebreaker."

Suppressing a shouted, "Are you fucking _kidding_ me?", he says a curt, "Of course she should get the position" as he takes his seat. It is the right thing to do, he reminds himself, but it hurts so, so much. He has never before felt such lightness while also feeling like he's been punched in the stomach.

"All right, then," Erwin says, oblivious to Levi's irritation, or at least refusing to recognize it. "Mikasa is the sixth member of this year's AATM class. Four to go."

After the meeting adjourns an hour later, Levi sticks around to chat with the others, something he has never done. No one chooses to point it out, recognizing that Levi does not come this far out of his shell very often, not wanting to scare him away. They do not realize, though, that small talk is the lesser of two evils in this scenario; anything to keep him from seeing Mikasa after this.

To his great chagrin the other executives start to disperse after ten minutes or so, all of them off to their next appointment or business lunch or international flight, in Mike's case. So he dawdles on his way back to his office, stopping by the employee cafeteria for a cup of weak coffee and a barely-ripe banana, consuming them leisurely as he sits alone and reads the news on his phone, taking a leisurely piss, spending a few minutes futzing with his hair and adjusting his collar in the mirror. Levi looks at his watch as he takes the elevator back to his floor; it has only been fifteen minutes.

When he arrives back to his office, he finds Mikasa with her head down, highlighting something in one of seven massive binders piled on her desk. Levi clears his throat as he comes in, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey," Mikasa greets him, giving him the same closed-lipped smile she wore when she first met him, too guarded to show him her teeth. "How was the meeting?"

"Fine," he grunts. "We went over the candidates for the accelerated management program."

"How did that go?" she asks innocently.

Levi narrows his eyes at her. "Cut the shit, Mikasa. I know you applied for it."

"Oh," she murmurs, the color draining from her face. "Levi, I—"

He holds up one hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it. I told you to look for a new job, now you have one. Congratulations."

Her eyes light up. "Wait, I got it?"

"Yeah. You got it." His mouth twists into an expression somewhere between a scowl and a smirk. He is happy for her, but can also feel her slipping away from him once and for all.

Mikasa leaps up from her seat and bounds around the desk, engulfing him in a tight hug. Levi wraps his arms around her, holding her close, but she breaks away after a few moments. "Oh my god! I can't believe it!" she exclaims, before thinking better of it. "I mean... I'm sorry. I should have told you."

He shakes his head. "No, you should be happy. You've earned it." _Because I fought for you,_ he thinks. _Again._ "Don't worry about giving me your two weeks notice. I already know you're leaving," he says wistfully. "You don't have to stick around if you don't want to. You could take some time off to relax before AATM consumes your life. I'll still pay you, of course."

"No, I'll stay. I owe you that much. Plus I can train my replacement," she tells him. "I'll help you hire someone, if you want. I don't want to leave you stranded."

"I'll be fine," Levi says, but his words sound much more assured than he feels.

The next two weeks feel like being tortured in slow motion. Mikasa is all business, answering his questions with brutal efficiency, never allowing her eyes to linger on him for too long. She helps him review applicants for her replacement, vetting candidates and sending him emails with notes, appraising organizational skills and telephone etiquette. Some days, it feels as though she is already gone.

Her last day is on a Friday after a week of them finalizing the last pieces of their audit, triple-checking their work. Mikasa's replacement has been trained and is due to start on Monday, picking up exactly where she left off. When Mikasa comes in at two-thirty with a steaming mug of tea (not bothering to ask him why he takes his tea hot even as spring creeps into summer; he loves that), he asks her if she would like to get a drink after work.

"I know you think I'm an asshole," he says, "but I miss hanging out with you. And I'm really going to miss seeing you here. So, offer's open. I'm buying."

She nods once, then takes a few moments to consider her answer. "Okay."

Levi's face lights up; he tamps his expression down to a pleased grin. "We can go now if you want. I can't imagine you have a ton of work to do, and Sasha's ready to jump in on Monday."

"Getting rid of me so soon?" she asks archly, her tone a bit too harsh for the pleasant expression on her face.

"No," he says, more defeated than defensive, "just wanted to know if you wanted to skip out early."

"Oh. Um, let me finish up a couple of things, and then we can go."

An hour later, they are walking across a dimly-lit bar a couple of blocks away from their office, pausing before their proffered seat: a small curved high-backed booth tucked away in the back of the room. They slide in, Levi not bothering to remain directly across from her, to keep his distance. Their knees occasionally touch under the table; at first Mikasa moves away from the contact, but after their first drink she stops flinching. After their second and some animated conversation, she doesn't move away. Another drink and it feels like she's pressing her leg against his, not just making contact but enhancing it. When there's a lull in the conversation as they wait for their waitress to reappear, Levi finds the need to fill the air, not wanting to think too hard about the fact that he is starting to feel warm, that Mikasa seems to be playing with her hair a lot more than she usually does.

"You're unemployed now," is the first thing he blurts, half-slurred, two fingers fishing into his empty martini glass (his third? or fourth? Mikasa isn't sure) to retrieve two olives on a plastic toothpick. He puts the toothpick in his mouth, then slides the olives off with his teeth, chewing them as he waits for her reply.

One side of Mikasa's mouth quirks into a half-smile. "What are you talking about? I have a job." She rolls her eyes, her lips parting as her grin widens.

"It hasn't started yet, and this job is over. You're unemployed, you lousy bum," he says, making a low snorting laugh.

"Which means you're not my boss anymore, asshole," she replies, leaning toward him to playfully slap him on the shoulder. She adjusts her footing and one of her legs comes into full contact with Levi's beneath the table, her bare shin rubbing against the soft wool of his pants. He looks down at her body so close to his, her hand still resting against his shoulder.

"Kiss me," he whispers before he realizes he's unconsciously vocalized his thoughts, but as his face fixes into a scowl, embarrassed at his words, Mikasa leans in and obliges him. Within moments she has rearranged herself around him so they are pressed front to front, his arm around her waist, her hand cupping his face.

When she pulls back, she is panting. "Do you want to get out of here?" she asks.

"You don't have to get Hana?" he asks, his eyes widening and searching her face for some kind of demurral, but the expression she wears is one he has not seen in a while, not since the last time he had her laid out on his bed, her dark hair fanned out over his pillow.

Mikasa shakes her head. "No. Eren's getting her."

 _Thanks, asshole_ , he thinks, completely sincere. "Come home with me. I'll get you back at a respectable hour." She bites her lower lip, then runs her right hand down from his shoulder, over his chest (one finger skimming over his nipple, he realizes, because she remembers that he likes that), down his hard stomach, stopping at his belt and, below that, his erection. "Or not." He waves down the waitress and asks for the check, opening his wallet and throwing a wad of bills at the table before he slides out of the booth. He offers his hand to Mikasa, practically yanking her to her feet once she clasps her hand around his. She stumbles forward into his arms and he wraps his arms around her, steadying her. "Let's get a cab," he says, and they walk out of the bar hand in hand.

Their mouths barely part between the time they get into the cab and they get into Levi's apartment, separating only to run the distance between the front door and the bed, discarding clothing as they go. They land roughly on the mattress, Levi pulling Mikasa down on top of him, wrapping his arms around her so she is pressed flat to his chest. She is soft and warm against him. His hands start to roam, cupping her ass, stroking up her back, around to her breasts. Mikasa's eyes flutter closed and she sighs, mouth slightly ajar. Levi watches her react, a small smile on his face as he sees her in the throes of pleasure.

He inclines his face up to her neck, pressing his lips there as his hand skates down her stomach, between her legs. Mikasa moves her hips toward him, leaning into his touch. His fingers are deft and sure against her, working her at a steady rhythm until she is moving against him and groaning along with each movement of his hand. She starts to come close to the edge, her moans becoming louder and closer together.

And then she stiffens. Her eyes snap open, revealing uncertainty instead of the expected lustful gaze. In a strangled, raspy voice she tells Levi to stop.

"What's wrong?" he asks, moving his hand to her back, rubbing her skin with his palm. "Are you okay?'

"I can't," she says. The place on her neck recently vacated by his lips feels cold when the air hits it.

"Why not?" Levi asks. His brow furrows in a concerned look.

Mikasa shakes her head. "If I stay here, I won't leave."

"Then don't. Stay," he murmurs and kisses her cheek. "We don't have to do anything. I just want to spend time with you." Mikasa freezes, suddenly stiff in his arms. She looks at him, her eyes searching his face, but says nothing. "Please," he adds, a note of desperation, of sadness creeping into his voice. His eyes widen as she looks down and away from him. Her lips purse into a frown, and then she gets out of the bed. "Mikasa?"

She looks down at him as he scrambles into a sitting position, his body tense and uncooperative. "I can't, Levi. It's not fair to either of us."

Levi simply watches her, sitting nude on the edge of his bed. His mouth draws down into a frown. His eyes start to burn and he blinks a couple of times, trying to douse the sensation. "You're going, then."

She looks down at the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze. "Yeah."

"Fine." He sighs. Mikasa reaches to the floor and retrieves her underwear, stepping into them and yanking them up and over her legs and hips. "Look, I just wanted to say since you're going and I don't know when I'll see you, I just... Fuck." Another sigh. Now she is looking at him, waiting for him to say his piece. Even impatient, she is radiant, and the surge of emotion he feels gives him the courage to spit out the thing that has been on the tip of his tongue for too long now. "Mikasa," he says, "I lo—"

"No," she cuts him off, nearly sobbing the word. "Please. It'll just hurt too much." She puts on her bra, efficiently fastening it behind her back as she has done so many times before.

"It hurts pretty fucking bad as it is," he snaps. "I'm going to miss you so fucking much and you won't even let me tell you how I feel?"

Mikasa sniffles, swiping a tear away from her eye. "It hurts me, too. But it's for the best. I can't be the person you need, Levi. I'll always have Hana. And because of her, I'll always have Eren, too. Between them and my new job, I just don't know if I can be there for you in the way that you deserve." She steps into her dress then pulls it up, reaching behind her back to get at the zipper.

"I don't care," Levi says. He rises to his feet and gently pushes her hands out of the way so he can drag the zipper up to its resting place at the nape of her neck. "I'll deal with it."

"Then you're being stupid," she tells him, turning around and placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Fine. I'm stupid," he says. He looks up into her eyes, at the glittering depths within them. She looks at him as though she can't understand why is he acting this way. "I don't care."

She shakes her head. "I'm stretched too thin, Levi. I'd give you everything if I could, but there's nothing left." Tears start to roll down her cheeks, and her voice finally breaks. "I don't want to do that to you." Levi closes his eyes and nods; a stray tear escapes from beneath his eyelashes, starts to run down the side of his nose. Mikasa reaches over and wipes it away with the pad of her thumb, then kisses his forehead. "I love you too, Levi. That's why I can't be with you."

She steps back then and crouches down, picking up her shoes in two fingers, hauling her purse over her shoulder, then gets up and walks away. She starts to cry before she leaves his room. It gets worse as she walks the familiar path through his apartment, past the kitchen where he made her breakfast on that first day they spent together, past the living room where they cuddled and watched movies (Mikasa trying and failing to suppress the memory of him pulling up her shirt and tickling her stomach to distract her during one he didn't want to watch), and out of the apartment. The sound of the door closing behind her, the latch clicking shut, sounds like a gunshot; the coup de grâce for the beautiful, impossible thing between them.

Levi stands there, still unclothed, frozen and silent. Tears stream freely down his face. He is unable to move, to speak, to do anything but watch her as she goes.

* * *

Mikasa has never been happier to be working sixty hours a week. She keeps going, keeps working, stays late at the office and comes in early when her schedule allows. At home she spends her time running after Hana — who has started to make a few hesitant attempts at walking as her first birthday looms — and helping Eren find a new apartment. (She does not trust him to find a suitable one on his own; he was the one who picked out the Trost Arms, saying that the apartment and the neighborhood weren't great, but not _that_ bad.) Once in a while Mikasa has a free evening or a free day on the weekend when Eren wants solo time with Hana so she spends her time at the gym, tiring her body in order to quiet her mind.

Still, despite her efforts, Levi comes to Mikasa in flashes, during a lull in conversation in a business lunch, while sweating as she pushes herself on the elliptical machine, while she is supposed to be listening to Hanji's lecture about the various projects going on in Research and Development, while changing Hana's diaper at home, in the few moments between her head hitting the pillow and her sinking into the deep sleep of the exhausted. She has learned to tolerate the burn she feels in the pit of her stomach when she thinks of him.

The days fade into each other; the weekends pass by in a blur of errands and time spent with Hana. Eren finally finds an apartment eight blocks away, a two-bedroom with high ceilings and a little concrete backyard that contains a raised bed full of flowers. Grisha gives him some extraneous furniture from his house and Eren takes care of the rest, saving up for a little bedroom set for Hana, a dining room table and chairs, a full set of pots and pans.

At least there are moments Mikasa remembers while she seemingly travels at light speed through her own life, though they are few and far between. On one of Eren's last nights living with her, while watching The Princess Bride for what seems like the four-hundredth time, Hana lifts herself up, bracing herself against the coffee table, and takes one step on a shaking chubby leg. Mikasa nudges Eren, putting her finger over her lips to keep him from startling the baby, and motions for him to watch.

Hana stands there, gripping the edge of the table with one leg outstretched, her parents watching breathlessly from a few feet away. Her dark brows draw down into a determined look and she launches herself off from the table, taking four shaky steps before losing her balance and falling to her hands and knees. She starts to cry when she hits the ground, saved only by Mikasa who scoops her up and holds her close, telling her how proud she is, what a big girl she is. Eren joins them, holding them both close, fussing over Hana as well. Soon the baby is giggling in their arms, antsy to try again.

Mikasa spends so much time indoors, either at home or at work, that she has become unaware of the passage of time, May slipping into June slipping into July. By the time Hana takes her first steps, it is nearly her first birthday, something that Mikasa recognizes but barely notices until she receives an email from Levi a few days after Hana takes her first steps.

He writes: _I got Hana something for her birthday next week. Do you have time to grab it from my office, or has the program got you chained to a radiator in the basement?_

She is typing an email to Grisha as she receives the new message, appraising him of recent developments, and does not realize when she copies and pastes her short message into an email, attaches a recent video of Hana, and sends it off to Levi, not Eren's father. It takes her a few moments to send a follow up message ( _Sorry! Meant to send that to Eren's dad. Let me know what's a good time for you._ ) and she takes a deep breath, hoping that Levi will delete the email.

When he sends his reply — _Don't worry about it, just stop by when you can_ — she breathes a sigh of relief.

Levi, on the other hand, is thankful for email as an impersonal medium. His curtness seems understandable when imparting information via text, able to be interpreted as him trying to relay a message in the fastest and most efficient way possible when really he is simply too preoccupied to care. Or, in this instance, giving a short, neutral answer when he is gasping for breath behind his desk, trying to discern meaning from the twenty-two seconds of footage. He watches the video four times before he forces himself to delete the email. The file still exists in his downloads folder, able to be retrieved at any time, but he chooses to ignore this fact; clicking the red X on his email client's toolbar is hard enough.

Mikasa is not in the video; not visible, anyway. It opens on Eren and Hana, him holding the baby by her waist as she stands. He sits cross-legged on the floor next to her, his gaze flickering between his daughter and Mikasa, who is recording them from a few feet away.

"Okay, it's going," she says.

"Just let her go?" Eren asks, a concerned look on his face. Hana squeals then, as though answering his question. "Say 'yes,' Hana-bear."

"Yaaa!" she cries.

"Okay, let her go!" Mikasa says.

"Oh, I don't know," Eren teases, shooting Mikasa a razor-sharp smile just past the lens of the camera. Hana's little body sways in his arms as she tries to take a step and is anchored in place beneath her father's grip.

"Let her go!" she repeats with a laugh. "Come on!" she tells him, a frustrated edge to her voice.

"Love you too," he sing-songs.

Levi imagines Mikasa rolling her eyes in that way she does, her cheeks coloring with a light wash of pink, when she practically purrs back, "Shut uuuuppp!" It makes him feel nauseous even as his heart swells with pride as Eren lets Hana go and she takes one step forward, then another, then another, until she collapses giggling into Mikasa's arms. Eren and Mikasa cheer, then the video ends.

From the way she talks to Eren, it is as though he never left, never broke her heart. Levi may as well have never existed. At least, that's what it feels like to him.

He takes a few moments to collect himself, then he brings the wrapped gift to the outer office, where the new secretary (Sasha, he reminds himself; he has not bothered to commit her name to memory yet) is talking on the phone to Nile: "Yes, Mr. Dawk. Yes, he's just about done that. I'll get it over to you as soon as I can. Thank you, Mr. Dawk." Sasha hangs up the phone, then turns to Levi. "He wants a copy of the audit when the full report is done," she relays.

Levi grunts. "Yeah. Sure. Look, can you take this? Mikasa is coming to get it. Let me know when she does."

"Do you want me to let you know when she stops by?" Sasha asks, a quizzical look on her face.

"No," Levi says after a moment. "Just tell me when this thing is gone. And tell her I'm not here if she asks to see me."

She looks up at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face for an answer, before she thinks better of it. "Sure, Mr. Ackerman," she answers him, accepting the gift.

* * *

"Where's Jean?" Mikasa grunts as she struggles up the narrow staircase of Eren's new apartment building, carrying one end of a monstrosity of a couch. The thing is vintage (evidenced by its slipcover of abstract shapes in varying shades of brown), its frame real wood, and even Mikasa is finding it difficult to lug this thing up two flights of steps.

"He's not coming. Totally blew me off," Eren snarls, drawing his mouth into a pained frown as he struggles with his end of the couch, several steps beneath Mikasa. "Fucking asshole."

"Did you tell him Mikasa would be here?" Armin calls from behind him, yelling around a huge box marked LIVING ROOM that blocks most of his vision.

Mikasa frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Eren rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on. You can't possibly have noticed that he's been in love with you since freshman orientation."

"Wait, what?" she sputters. "No, come on, don't bullshit me." She moves slowly up the stairs, Eren following.

"It's the truth!" he grunts as he pushes the couch upward.

"But Jean's my friend and I was with you for years!"

"For someone so smart, you are really fucking obtuse sometimes," Eren says, chuckling.

"You may not want insult the person who's in a position to drop a couch on you," Mikasa warns him as she takes the last step up to the second floor landing.

Eren pushes the sofa the rest of the way, then picks up his end and helps Mikasa carry it into his new home. The apartment is blessedly air conditioned in the July heat, and they easily deposit the couch in the corner of what is to be his living room. "Sorry," he huffs. "I'm just pissed at that horseface dickhead."

Armin follows behind, laughing as he places his box next to the couch.. "So does that mean he has a horse face growing out of his penis-shaped head? That's a great mental image."

"What the fuck, Armin!" Eren yells, his expression somewhere between disgusted and amused.

"That was pretty funny," Mikasa agrees with a nod.

"Anyway, Jean said he was out with his mom. That asshole doesn't know I'm Facebook friends with her and she's in the Bahamas right now. He's probably hungover, stoned, jerking off, or all of the above."

"How charitable of you," she says wryly.

Eren wipes away sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's accurate. I should know. He's my friend."

"You two have a really weird idea of friendship," Armin notes.

It takes them another hour to unload the truck, Eren occasionally complaining about Jean's absence, Mikasa and Armin quietly listening to him and trying to stave off heat exhaustion. Mikasa in particular looks distressed, frowning when she has significant downtime, so she runs boxes up from the truck even when Eren and Armin are taking breaks. When they are finished, Eren and Armin leave to return the truck and Mikasa walks around the apartment, poking her head into what is to be Hana's room, stepping out into the backyard before immediately retreating back into the air conditioning. It is a nice place, she notes with satisfaction, and she did not have to twist Eren's arm into looking at it; he was the one to pick it out.

After taking her tour she heads into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge and fishing a couple of bottles of water out of the case she brought for the occasion. She boosts herself onto Eren's kitchen counter so she can sit there while she looks at her phone, double-checking her calendar to see what lies ahead for the coming week. In there, buried toward the bottom of her reminders list, is one from a week earlier: _Thank Levi for Hana's present._ She frowns at the thought of having to speak to him, at the flood of memories the four letters of his name elicits, but still she opens a text message to him and starts to type. She thanks him profusely, telling him how much Hana loves pushing her new train around, how its little cutouts are helping her learn her shapes, how her favorite is the star. After she sends it, she turns on her phone's screen every few moments to check for notifications. Mikasa does not receive a reply.

Fifteen minutes later, she hears the door open and close. "Mikasa?" Eren calls.

"I'm in the kitchen," she replies.

He walks in, a six-pack of beers in one hand, then opens the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water, which he places against the waistband of his shorts. "Oh, that feels good," he moans. "I don't know how, but it feels even hotter outside now. I'm never leaving this apartment again. You want to order a pizza? I picked up some beer." He lifts the six-pack to show her.

"Where's Armin?"

"He wanted to take a shower and a nap, so more beer for us."

Mikasa smirks. "I told your dad I'd pick up Hana once we were done."

"He'll live," Eren says. "He was so excited to see her walking, I'm sure she'll keep him entertained." She starts to make a noise of demurral until he interrupts her. "Come on. When's the last time we hung out, just the two of us?"

"When I was in labor," she replies, "but I don't think that counts."

"See? All the more reason." She cannot argue with his logic, so she stays, taking a seat on the couch. Eren screws the legs into Grisha's old coffee table so they have somewhere to put their beer and pizza.

"You have to get coasters," she tells him when he sets his beer down, condensation pooling around the bottom of the glass bottle. "You'll get rings on the table."

"Yeah, but it's already beat to shit," he reminds her, gesturing toward the scratched and faded tabletop as he plops down next to her.

Mikasa exhales forcefully through her nose in exasperation. "You have to take care of your stuff, Eren. Even if it's not very nice."

He twists his mouth into a scowl while he thinks for a few moments. "I'll pick up some coasters. You do have this whole adult thing nailed down better than I do," he admits.

"Damn right," she answers, taking a swig of her beer. Eren laughs, unable to disagree.

So they sit, and they talk. They end up devouring the entire pizza after it arrives, eating the greasy slices over their laps on paper towels. By the time they are finished, they are leaning against each other, eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue and satiety. Eren puts one arm around Mikasa; she instinctively snuggles into his familiar grasp. Her eyes flutter closed and she sighs, savoring the temporary contentment.

Eren looks around the apartment as he leans his head against Mikasa's, at the stacked boxes, the haphazardly placed furniture. After so long abroad it still feels foreign to be rooted to one place; even sleeping on Mikasa's couch for a couple of months felt less restrictive and final than his own apartment. But it is good, he thinks, because he cannot wander forever. He has responsibilities to himself, to his union, to Hana, to Mikasa. If this is what he can expect, a comfortable (though hideous) couch beneath him, Mikasa resting in his arms, then he is glad to be home with his family.

He looks down at Mikasa's face, her eyelashes dark smudges on her pale sharp cheekbones, her lips lightly parted. Eren runs the backs of two fingers over her cheek, smiling as he encounters the softness he remembers so well. Mikasa makes a quiet whimper. Her lips curl up into a light smile, which he enjoys, a change from her previously dour demeanor. Eren bites his lower lip, unsure how to proceed, so he sucks in a breath and goes for it, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

Mikasa leans into his kiss, the familiar feeling of his lips on hers, out of instinct. Her stomach rolls but it is not the giddy excitement she used to feel. His strong arms pull her up, toward him, so her chest is pressed against his. Eren moans deep in his throat as he opens his mouth and feels her respond in kind — until she places her hands on his chest and pushes him away.

"No," she breathes, shaking her head. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are pouted and kiss-swollen, but her eyes are as dark and sad as he has ever seen them.

"What?" Eren asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

"It's not the same," she says.

"It's because of him, isn't it." He says it as a statement, not a question. Mikasa nods. "Sorry, I should have known you have a new boyfriend or whatever now."

"I don't," Mikasa murmurs. "We split up."

"Why? Because of the fight?"

She glares at him. "Yes, because of the fight," she snaps. "I can't be dating someone who wants to beat you up."

"What, because he got to it before you did?" Eren jokes.

"It's not funny," Mikasa sulks. "It hurt. A lot."

"If it hurt, then why did you dump him?"

"Because, Eren, sometimes people have to make sacrifices to protect their daughter and their idiot ex-boyfriend."

Eren's expression sours then, amiability giving way to annoyance giving way to rage. His eyes blaze green with sudden fury at the fact that they are rehashing the same argument they've always had as children, as friends, as lovers, a fight that has lasted for over a decade now. "I don't need protecting, Mikasa!" he exclaims, standing up. "I started that fight." He slaps his palm against his chest. "Me. I wanted to fight him because I was mad that he was taking my place."

Mikasa stands up as well, too angry to remain seated. "Well, you got your wish, then," she sneers. "He's not around anymore. Problem solved. Why are you so mad?" She glares at him, her lip curling.

"Because he's _my_ problem, not yours. He made you happy, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten together with him. You're making yourself miserable for no reason!" he shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

Mikasa scoffs, wrinkling her nose. "What, now you like Levi?"

"No, of course not, but I love you. I want you to be happy, Mikasa. And—" his shoulders slump forward and he sighs— "clearly you love him." She scowls and shakes her head vigorously. Eren smiles and rolls his eyes at her. "Come on, Mikasa. When's the last time you yelled at me?" She furrows her brow, scanning her memory, then shrugs when she cannot find an answer. "Exactly. You love him."

Mikasa throws up her hands and makes an exasperated noise, then stalks out of the room.

"Don't run off," he calls after her, following her into the kitchen where she is retrieving another bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"That's rich, coming from you," she spits, slamming the door closed. The refrigerator rattles with the impact.

"Is it?" he asks. "I learned my lesson, didn't I?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Eren! It's done, okay? It doesn't matter. He's not coming back." Mikasa sighs and hangs her head. Eren walks over and hugs her; she rests her forehead against his shoulder and he pets her hair in a reassuring gesture, stroking the palm of his hand down her dark tresses.

"Ugh, you're all sweaty," he mutters, drawing his damp hand away and wiping it on his shorts.

"No one told you to touch my hair," she replies with a giggle. "That's on you."

"Look, Mikasa," Eren says. "I know you're not stupid, so don't act like it. I don't like Levi and, frankly, I don't see why you like him. He's mean, he's pissy, he's _short_ , he's apparently got a weird MILF thing—"

Mikasa steps back, confusion and amusement mingling on her features. "You think I'm a MILF?"

He snorts. "Duh. We have a kid together, for one, and I would've fucked you all over that ugly-ass couch if you'd have let me."

"Eren!" she exclaims, giggling.

"That doesn't matter, though. What matters is that you love him and he makes you happy, and he clearly feels something for you, considering how pissed off he was on your behalf." He smiles. "Thank god you showed up. He probably would have killed me. I've never seen anyone so angry, except for maybe you," he adds.

"Yeah, we're really perfect for each other," Mikasa says sarcastically.

"I can't say that for sure," Eren replies. "But what if you are?"

* * *

The summer stretches on, interminably long and brutally hot, and Levi finds his mood decreasing steadily as the mercury rises. He finishes his work with Nile Dawk and passes the work off to Hanji's department, thankful to be without the prick but annoyed that he no longer has to adhere to a punishing work schedule. Without Mikasa and Hana to occupy his time, he finds himself on his own, spending more and more time at the gym, sparring when he can find a partner, taking out his frustrations on a heavy bag when he cannot. Sasha, at least, knows to stay out of his way, which angers him even more; he cannot use her as a scapegoat, cannot project all of his anger on her.

Even as the days start to cool as August winds down, Levi's mood does not lift. He scowls at everyone he sees (especially young fathers with babies), fights viciously against his sparring partners, spends his nights tossing and turning in a bed that suddenly seems too large. After a while he is simply too tired to continue being actively furious all the time and makes an appointment with a therapist, but the woman's calendar is booked up for seven weeks; he ends the call, then throws his phone across his office. It hits a wall, bounces off, then drops to the floor. When he goes to retrieve it, he finds the screen shattered, splintered into infinite tiny shards. The phone on Levi's desk chirps then, the short ring signaling that Sasha is paging him.

"Yeah?" he barks after ripping the receiver from its cradle.

"Mr. Ackerman, are you okay?" Sasha asks, a note of concern in her voice. "I heard a loud noise."

He suppresses an angry sigh. "It was nothing. I just dropped something. Look, I need to go run a few errands, I'll be back in an hour or so." He hangs up then and collects his belongings, storming out of the office and not stopping until he realizes he's walked the opposite way of the parking garage.

Levi returns an hour later, still fuming, with a brand new phone in hand. He gets on the elevator to find Erwin standing there, tapping at the screen of his phone. Levi pastes a small smile on his face as he stands next to his boss, but he is gritting his teeth.

"Hey, Levi," Erwin greets him, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Levi looks straight ahead at the lit elevator buttons. "Hey."

"I have a favor to ask. Can you sub in for me for the AATM meeting next week?"

"What AATM meeting?" Levi asks.

"It's a consulting thing for the top three class members after their quarterly reviews. They get some face-to-face time with me to advise them about their careers here, tell them about what I did to be successful. It'll be a breeze for you. I just realized I can't make it; I have to go to the doctor with Hanji," Erwin says.

Levi frowns. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine, just pregnant."

"Again? Jesus Christ. Get a vasectomy, Erwin," Levi says with a dry laugh, almost a cough.

"She wants a big family. It's not like we're strapped for cash," Erwin replies, slapping Levi on the back and letting out a booming laugh.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles. "I'll take the meeting for you."

The elevator slows to a stop, dinging as it reaches the sixth floor. Erwin stands by the door, holding it open with one large hand. "Maybe try to be a bit more upbeat for the kids," he says. Levi grunts a reply, which makes the other man let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I get that you've been feeling down lately, even though you refuse to tell me why. That's fine. But I asked you to do me a favor, and I expect you to do your job." Erwin gives him a stern glare, then steps out of the elevator. Levi lets out a muttered curse after the doors close.

A week later, he saunters into the conference room; the top three associates sit on one side of a conference table, two dark heads and one blond, all wearing charcoal gray or black suits. Levi walks around the table and takes a seat across from the trio. When he looks over at them he sees the sweaty kid from the Powerpoint presentation — _Bert something?_ he thinks — Reiner Braun, and, at the end of the row, Mikasa. His hard expression softens for a moment, the tension around his eyes briefly fading into fatigue, into sadness, into the longing he's been trying to suppress for the last three months. She seems to see it too, a small smile crossing her lips, so he narrows his eyes and looks away from her.

For once, Levi does not have much to say. He lets the associates steer the meeting, the two men asking him questions as he looks up the other kid's name (Bertholdt Hoover, according to the company directory), Mikasa staring at him silently with those dark, inscrutable eyes. Her lips are softly pursed. He cannot tell if she feels awkward, or sad, or angry, or whether she is simply too proud to show any of these emotions in front of him. He feels a reluctant surge of pride at her using his trick and succeeding more than he is at the moment, his voice brittle with barely-contained annoyance when he answers Reiner's and Bertholdt's questions. After half an hour, the two men seem to run out of steam; Levi turns his attention to Mikasa, who has not said a word since she entered the room, hoping to punch a hole in her placid exterior.

"Do you have anything to add, Ms. Ackerman?" Levi asks sharply.

"No," she says softly, her voice calm and neutral. "Reiner and Bertl covered what I was going to ask."

"Fine," he says. "You guys can head out, then. Thanks for coming. Good job with your reviews. Keep up the good work."

"Sir, with all due respect, this wasn't in the schedule," Reiner interjects. "This meeting was supposed to run from 1 to 2. It's only 1:35."

"You're going to need to be a lot more adaptable if you want to succeed in this program, Mr. Braun," Levi counters. "Schedules go awry all the time. Now, do you have any more questions for me? I'd be happy to answer them. Mr. Hoover? Ms. Ackerman?" Reiner stares him down; Bertholdt and Mikasa shake their heads. "Thank you for your time," he says, getting to his feet. "I hope it was informative for you. Please feel free to email me if you think of anything else." Levi shows the three of them to the door, shaking their hands one at a time, passing them each a business card. Reiner and Bertholdt leave, but Mikasa still lingers by the door, her hand resting on the handle. She turns to see Levi wiping his hand, moist from Bertholdt's sweaty grip, on his slacks.

"Do you really have another appointment, or are you trying to kick me out?" she asks.

"Don't be so egotistical. You can go now," he snaps.

"No, I think I'll stay," she replies, her words clipped. "Erwin wouldn't have sent you in his stead unless you could have covered the entire meeting and then some in case it went over. So yeah, now that I think about it, you are trying to kick me out."

"Get _out_ , Mikasa," Levi snarls.

"What is your problem?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "Why are you being such an asshole?"

"It's not my job to deal with your emotions anymore. Talk to Eren if I made you feel like shit," he says flippantly.

Mikasa shakes her head, confused. "What does Eren have to do with this?"

Levi fixes her with a familiar stare. It takes her a few moments to recognize that the narrowed eyes, the firm line of his mouth, are hallmarks of his intimidating glare. He looks at her the way he looks at Nile Dawk; really, at anyone who he sees as an idiot and a waste of his time. "Are you stupid? He has everything to do with this," he snarls. "But clearly you fail to see that. In that case, I can't help you. Go be happy with him. Live long and prosper, or whatever."

She looks at him for a moment, trying to figure out just what the hell he is talking about. A dry laugh escapes her throat, loud and atonal, befuddled and bitter. "You— you think I'm _happy?_ With _Eren?_ "

"Don't play dumb. I saw the video." His words come out of his mouth in furious low bursts.

"Of Hana walking? And that's proof that I'm with Eren? This is a new low, even for you." Mikasa shakes her head, exhales an exasperated breath. "You don't know shit."

"By all means," Levi says, resuming his seat and sweeping his arm out, gesturing toward the empty chairs on the room, "enlighten me."

"Fine." Mikasa stalks over to Levi, taking the chair next to his, angling herself so she faces him. He sits with his legs resting beneath the table, making her look at his profile, so she grips the armrest of his chair and turns him until he is facing her, looking up into her stormy eyes. "Eren kissed me and I turned him down," she informs him, her voice strained with anger and the threat of tears, her cheeks starting to flush. "Do you know why? It's because I am still in love with a cruel, pompous, jealous asshole. Eren told me I should be with you, but you are making that option pretty goddamned difficult right now."

Levi just looks at her, eyes wide and unbelieving. "I saw you two flirting," he says flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Yeah, and?" she asks. "He's my best friend and the father of my child. We joke around. Do you really believe a video over me sitting here in front of you, telling you that I fucking love you?"

"This is the angriest declaration of love I've ever experienced," he notes. "So yeah, it's a little hard to tell."

"Because I am angry at you." Her voice softens. "I've spent the last three months trying to get over you, and then the first time I see you, you're horrible to me." She sighs. "I missed you so much."

Levi cocks one eyebrow and interjects, "But you don't miss me anymore?"

"No. You're sitting right in front of me, dummy," Mikasa answers with a laugh.

Levi joins her despite himself, not wanting to let go of the fire of his righteous indignation, but his laughter dies out quickly. "I'm surprised that you thought about me at all, considering how easy it was for you to ditch me the second Eren got back into town."

"You think that was easy?" she asks, her voice starting to waver.

"Yeah, I do, actually. We decided as a couple to stay together when Eren got back, but the second you had to deal with the fact that he and I don't like each other, you dropped me like I meant nothing to you." He looks down, sighs. "I know I shouldn't have fought with him, but I was fighting for you and Hana, because I love both of you so much and I want to protect you from anyone who tries to hurt you."

"I didn't want you to do that," she murmurs. "I never asked you to do that."

"Why not?" he demands, his voice raising. "Why won't you let me? Why is it so horrible to imagine yourself actually letting someone look out for you for a change?"

Her eyes narrow, focusing her deadly black gaze. "Because I can't guarantee that you'll stick around."

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, let's get one thing straight. I don't care if you walk out of this room hating me. But do not ever, _ever_ think I would treat you the way Eren did." He sighs exasperatedly, then rises to his feet. "You know what? We're done here," he says, walking out of the room, his steps firm and sure.

Mikasa follows him into the hallway, hurrying effortlessly after him on her high heels. "How was I supposed to know—" she begins.

"Not here," Levi growls, turning on her and grasping her upper arm. She feels a jolt at the contact, at his familiar grasp on her, and looks down at his face to see if he feels it as well. If he does, he is good at hiding it. He loosens his grip. "Come to my office if you insist on continuing this stupid fucking conversation," he tells her in a low voice.

"Fine," she barks, matching his stride as he walks over to the elevators, standing silently beside him as he waits for one to arrive. It is satisfying, somewhat, to feel his anger radiating off of him in waves as he steps onto the elevator and seethes beside her.

"Hold my calls, Sasha," he all but snarls as he traverses the waiting room that served as Mikasa's office, ripping open the door to his inner sanctum and waiting for Mikasa to enter before slamming it behind her. He does not even bother to sit down at his desk; he takes a few long steps into the office before facing her and resuming their argument.

"When did I ever give you any indication that I would leave you? I fought for you, Mikasa, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Yeah, I know I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry, but I did it because you just let Eren back in like nothing happened. And that hurt." His shoulders droop as he admits it.

"I did it for Hana," she says firmly.

"Yeah, you said so. Really makes a lot of sense to dump a man who loves the both of you for the baby's benefit. Did you really think you were being selfless?" Mikasa looks away, doesn't answer. Levi approaches her, takes her chin in his fingers so she has to look at him. "Listen to me. Cutting off your nose to spite your face doesn't make you a good mother. Suffering needlessly doesn't make you a good person. If you want to do right by Hana, then give her as much love as you can."

"So you can fight with Eren and throw money around to make up for it?" she asks, tearing herself away from his grip.

"No!" he exclaims. Then, quietly, "I just wanted to take care of you. I wanted you and Hana to be safe and comfortable. It was the only thing I could think to do for you."

"You could have just loved me, Levi." Mikasa's eyes start to brim with tears. "I never wanted your money. I never wanted you to fight. I just wanted you. I still do. I'm such an idiot."

He realizes that reveling in the warmth of her gaze, of her touch, is a lot more satisfying than allowing his rage to burn brightly and consume them both. She loves him. And he, for better or for worse, has never stopped loving her, not even in the moments where he was convinced that he had forever lost her to Eren. What else matters, he wonders, if they are in love? So he leans forward, toward her, then reaches out and takes her hands in his. Mikasa's lips curve into a smile at the familiar contact.

"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes downcast. "For everything. The thought of not having you apparently turns me into a raging asshole."

"No, you're like that all the time," she counters with a mischievous smile. Levi's eyes widen in surprise. "But I love you anyway." He cannot contain himself once he hears her say the words, eight stupid letters that nonetheless feel like the most important thing to the world, and kisses her deeply, holding her face in his hands. Mikasa is dazed for a moment. "You should have waited after I apologized to kiss me," she says.

"Guess I jumped the gun," he answers with a small smile. "I couldn't wait."

"Well, I'm sorry for treating you like shit. You're better than that. You've treated me and Hana much better than that."

"I accept your apology." He reaches over to her, brushes a stray hair from her cheek. "I love you so much, Mikasa," he says, his voice solemn. "Hana, too. God, I miss her. How is she?"

"She's good," Mikasa replies, her mouth turning up in a soft smile. "She's stopped grabbing noses. Now she runs everywhere."

"I'll take her to the gym with me," he says. "Put her on a treadmill and tire her out that way." He smirks, but then his face falls. "Sorry. I shouldn't talk about her. Not my kid and all."

"No, it's okay. I missed joking with you like this," she tells him in a hushed tone.

"I'm glad," he replies, and for the first time in three months he actually means it.

"Plus I might actually take you up on that sometime," she adds. "She never stops."

"I'll chase her around for you, if you want," he offers.

She smiles. "I'd love to see that."

They sit there for a few moments, holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes. Levi lifts Mikasa's hands to his lips and kisses them once, softly. "Do you think we could try this again?"

"I do," she says. "Do you think you can be in the same room with Eren without pummeling him repeatedly?"

Suddenly, the solution toward whatever lingering aggression exists between the two men seems abundantly clear to Levi, and his face lights up. "I actually have an idea for that," he tells her.

* * *

Two weeks later Levi sends Mikasa a text message with a restaurant and a time, and an instruction to bring Hana. When she arrives there she finds Levi and Eren chatting in a corner; or, more accurately, Eren talking animatedly while Levi nods, a mildly amused smile on his face. As she approaches them, Eren turns toward her, revealing a faint bruise on one cheek, a cloudlike wisp of violet.

Mikasa stops in her tracks. "What the hell is that on your face?" she asks, shifting her gaze to Levi, who wears a stoic expression.

"A bruise," Eren volunteers. "My helmet was too loose and it knocked against my cheekbone." He reaches out and takes Hana from Mikasa, then kisses the top of the baby's head. Hana reaches out toward Levi as well. He smiles, then looks at Mikasa, who gives him a faint nod. He squeezes her hand in his, making the baby coo.

"Why were you wearing a helmet?" Mikasa asks, her tone slow and cautious.

"We sparred," Levi clarifies. "And now we probably won't fight again. We were in the ring for a good half-hour. I'm fucking exhausted."

"I hope we do fight again!" Eren exclaims. Mikasa looks at him, squinting at him, lip curled. She does not need to ask him if he is insane; her expression screams it. "Seriously, Mikasa, it was so cool. He's a really good boxer! I don't know how he can hit so hard!" he gushes.

"Is he concussed?" Mikasa asks, turning to Levi.

He chuckles. "No, just excited. I taught him a couple of moves and now he wants to join my gym and start training. I told him I'd show him a few things."

"I'm going to take you up on that someday," Eren insists. "I can't afford that gym now, but I will soon. Then I'm coming for you." He laughs, then claps Levi on the back. Levi's eyes widen momentarily before he pastes a weary grin on his face. "I gotta bulk up in the meantime. Have you seen this guy's abs?"

"Uh, yeah," Mikasa replies, giggling. "Of course I have."

"Take it easy there, champ," Levi says.

A waitress appears then, stemming the potential awkwardness — a part of Levi is more comfortable with Eren's ire than his fannish devotion — and seats them at a table, Mikasa and Levi on one side, Eren and Hana on the other. Eren grabs a menu and leans in close to Hana so he can read the items to her, asking her opinion on chicken nuggets versus macaroni and cheese, listening intently as she forms almost-words in reply.

"She's learning a lot of words," Eren says. "I got her to say 'cheese' the other day. Come on, Hana-bear. Say cheese!"

"Cheeeeee," she repeats.

Levi smirks. "Impressive, kid," he says to Hana.

"Dada!" she replies, followed by a string of babbled syllables.

Levi stiffens and grasps Mikasa's hand beneath the table. She turns and looks at him, at his seemingly-neutral expression. She can tell he is hiding a tumult of emotion and tries to calm him with a reassuring glance.

"Who am I?" she asks Hana, pointing to herself.

The baby grins, showing a few tiny white teeth. "Mama!"

She moves her hand, pointing at Eren. "Who's that, Hana?"

"Dada!" she squeals.

"And who's that?" she repeats, this time pointing at Levi.

"Dada!"

"Hana doesn't have any problem with it, so I don't see why we should," she says, at first saying it to reassure them, but after a moment and a couple of solemn nods from Eren and Levi, she realizes it is true. The baby has never discerned between Eren and Levi, has never decided that one of them must be dearer to her heart than the other. She loves them both because they love her. So she calls them both dad; so what? She has two men to love her and take care of her now, better than when she had one, when she had none.

Why should it be any different for me? Mikasa thinks. They both love Mikasa in their own ways, Eren and Levi. No matter what, Eren is her past, her family. Without him, she would not have Hana; with him, she has someone to help shoulder their precious burden. Even though she no longer wants to be with him, it is a comfort to know he will be there, that he has sown his wild oats and is ready to be a grown-up with the rest of them. And then there is Levi, grounding her, stabilizing her, but also encouraging her to do better, to soar higher, to dream bigger.

She has had to grow up as well, Mikasa realizes. She felt paralyzed after Eren left, but she picked up and kept going; got a new job, a new apartment, a new love, all by herself. But she has also learned the value of collaboration, of allowing herself to open up and to give Eren a second chance, to allow Levi to develop his own relationship with Hana. Even when she felt as though she had no one in the world save for Hana, she was never alone; Levi wanted to help. Even Eren, in his own way, helped her in the end, by showing her the depths of her strength and her forgiveness.

Without Eren, she thinks, she would not be sitting here with Levi by her side, occasionally reaching over to take her hand in his or rest a reassuring hand on her leg. She would not be thinking of him and marveling at the way her heart seems to swell and overflow, inundated with the love she feels for him, the love she knows he carries in his heart for her, for Hana.

So she sits there, forgetting to glance at her menu, too captivated by the scene before her to decide what she wants. Eren and Levi chat amiably, occasionally stopping to allow Hana to interject a few babbled words, the occasional "Dada." Instead of stiffening, they laugh and ask her to clarify which Dada she means, pointing fingers at themselves and each other, smiling and laughing along with the baby. Mikasa watches them, her boys and her baby girl, and smiles contentedly.

"Who loves me best?" Eren coos. "Hana loves me best!"

Levi rolls his eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

"Hana," Eren sing-songs. "Hanaaaaaa. Who do you love best?"

"Eren..." Mikasa warns, worried lines forming around the corners of her mouth.

"We're just fooling around. Don't worry about it. Who do you love?" he asks, kissing the baby's cheek.

Hana looks around at all of them, her eyes falling on Eren's face, then Levi's, then Mikasa's, and back around again. She pouts for a moment, and then her eyes light up as she finds her answer.

"Mama!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for Inexorable! Thank you all for reading, for giving kudos, for commenting. I haven't gotten the chance to respond to everyone but I have read your messages and I appreciate them more than I can say. If you follow me on Tumblr you've probably heard about how I've had a hard time with this fic, but thanks to your support (and k-lionheart, the best beta reader in the universe) I've managed not only to finish, but to produce a novel-length piece of writing that I'm really proud of. I hope you enjoyed reading as well.
> 
> Oh, and if you're curious, this is not the last you'll see of Hana Yeager. I can't say when I'll have the time to bring her back in the mix, but I have a whole mess of ideas about the Ackerman-Yeager family.


	7. Worst Day of My Life (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after the events of Inexorable, Levi still finds himself adjusting to family life, though at times he feels like he’s way over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a play on "First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes.

In the Ackerman household there are few moments of quiet, let alone intimacy, so Levi and Mikasa are forced to take what little they can get: usually on Saturday or Sunday morning, in the hours before Hana wakes up and bolts into their bedroom, demanding hugs and kisses and breakfast.

“That’s good,” Mikasa breathes, her eyes fluttering closed as Levi moves atop her. “Right there.”

He braces himself on his hands and swivels his hips, eliciting a soft sigh from her. “You like that?” She nods, so he does it again. He starts to pull the sheet up over them, reaching down to his waist to draw soft printed cotton over their heads, when she stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t like when you do that,” she tells him. “It gets really hot under there.”

“I know,” Levi replies with a sly grin and a chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he replies. He leaves the sheet where it is, draped over their hips. “I’m pretty close to finishing. How are you doing?”

“I’m not feeling so great,” she says, and as she speaks Levi notices that the soft smile she usually wears during their lovemaking is strained at the edges, her pale skin slightly wan.

He frowns, slowing but not stilling his pace. “Are you okay?”

Mikasa nods. “I’m fine, just lightheaded, a bit nauseous. It’s probably just work stress and lack of sleep catching up with me. You finish.“ Levi slips one hand between their joined bodies, stroking her with the pad of his thumb as he glides in and out of her, his hips gently pressing against hers as he moves. Mikasa’s eyes close again as she inhales a sharp breath and lets out a sigh.

"Better?” he asks.

“Bett— _ah!_ ” Her reply cuts off as Levi thrusts his hips forward roughly, then pulls back and does it again, again, again. His fingers speed up as well, firmly circling her heated, slick flesh, feeling her grow hotter and wetter beneath his touch. Within minutes she is pulsing around him; soon he is coming as well, his eyes squeezed shut, short gasps escaping from between his lips.

“Good morning!” Hana yells, throwing open their bedroom door.

“Shit!” Mikasa yelps, then reaches down to Levi’s waist, yanking the sheet up over his head as he shudders atop her. “Go back to your room, Hana!” she shouts.

“ _What?_ ” Levi grunts between the sharp sighs of his orgasm.

“I’ll handle this,” Mikasa says to him in a low voice, still shielding him from Hana’s view with the sheet. “If you go lay down for ten more minutes, Daddy will make you pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Hana gasps, incredulous, then turns and runs toward her room, leaving the door wide open. “Pancaaaaaaaakes!” she shouts as the sound of her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor quickly recedes.

“Ten whole minutes!” Mikasa calls after her, her words interrupted by the slamming of Hana’s bedroom door.

“Oh, god,“ Levi groans, still hiding beneath the sheet. He presses his face to Mikasa’s chest; she feels the dampness of his forehead and the furious burn of embarrassment in his cheeks. "I feel like a sexual predator.”

“She didn’t see anything,” she reassures him, stroking his hair through the sheet, simultaneously horrified and endlessly amused at what has just occurred. “And even if she did, she doesn’t understand what happened.”

He sighs, then pulls the sheet away from his head and shoulders, sighing at the blessedly cool air that meets his skin. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Mikasa shrugs. “You scarred my baby for life,” she tells him, softly sarcastic, her lips turning up in a small smile. “Would you prefer I say that?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to play her joke off, but a snort of laughter escapes his lips. “Shut up,” he replies with a smile, then kisses her a few times before rolling off of her. Levi sprawls across his half of the bed for a few moments, his chest rising and falling quickly, his veins still burning with the adrenaline and anxiety and fear of Hana’s intrusion (At the absolute worst possible time, he reminds himself) but his breaths soon slow and he remembers what Mikasa exchanged in order for these blissful minutes of silence. “I have to make fucking pancakes now?” he groans.

Mikasa turns over on her side to face him. Her brow is damp, iridescent with small drops of sweat. “I really don’t feel well,” she groans softly. Levi leans over and presses the back of his hand to her forehead; it is cool.

The sight of her like this, so different from her usual hardy constitution, alarms him. Hana is more or less a human germ factory, albeit an adorable one, to Levi: she has just completed a year of preschool that saw her come down with head lice (a weeklong nightmare during which he kept Hana confined to her bedroom and seriously considered throwing out all of her linens and clothing), stomach flu, innumerable colds, and two separate occasions of pink eye. Throughout all of this Mikasa has remained improbably healthy, Levi less so. Mikasa has pointed to his unpredictable and wildly inadequate sleep schedule as the reason for his relatively weak immune system, which is the last thing he wants to hear when he’s lying on the couch, unable to breathe through his nose, cradling a whimpering, feverish toddler against his chest because it’s the only way she’ll stop scream-crying.

He frowns at the sight of Mikasa looking so uncharacteristically pale and clammy, then extends one arm so she can cuddle up against him. His lip curls automatically at the uncomfortable wetness of her sweaty skin and hair against his chest as she lays her head down. Still he drapes his arm around her, strokes the damp and stringy strands, traces patterns in the sweat on her shoulder, because he has long since learned to tolerate his visceral discomfort in exchange for the seemingly infinite wellspring of her love.

Mikasa lets out a soft cough; Levi can feel the muscles beneath his hand contracting and expanding, spasming in time with her. The coughing grows more forceful, more violent. Mikasa braces herself against Levi’s chest, one hand gripping his shoulder tightly, as she shudders with the force of her hacking. And then, just as Levi feels a small splash of something hot and wet against his bare skin, smells the acrid stench of bile, the coughing stops.

“ _Did you just puke on me?_ ” he asks, his voice high-pitched with alarm.

Mikasa swipes one hand across his chest, leaving a sticky smear that to Levi feels even more revolting. “No.” She does not meet his eyes, keeps one hand cupped and out of his sight. He lets out a low grunt, almost a growl: _I don’t believe you_ , when translated from Levi to English.

She sighs. “Okay, a little.”

Before Levi can react, she starts to cough again and this time finds the energy to hurl herself out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, falling to her knees in front of the toilet as she starts to retch loudly, anguished wet noises spilling forth from her throat.

Without a word, Levi gets up and saunters over to the linen closet to retrieve a clean towel. He goes into the bathroom, the surge of pity and concern he feels for Mikasa temporarily overwhelmed by the uncontrollable urge to scrub himself clean. Turning the shower on as hot as he can bear it, he gets in and stands under the steaming spray, waiting until Mikasa commences a second round of vomiting to let out a frustrated groan.

* * *

“What were you and Mommy doing this morning?” Hana asks, kicking her feet against the back of the passenger seat in Levi’s car. He clenches his teeth at the repetitive noise; the soft impact of her sneakers against the leather may as well be a kettle drum pounding between his ears. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Levi tamps down his displeasure at having to fill in for Mikasa’s weekly trip to the supermarket; it is a necessary evil, he tells himself, considering that she was still vomiting when he and Hana left the house. The errand will keep him from fretting over her condition and how badly he wants to bleach the toilet and, for good measure, the tiled bathroom floor, the rest of their bedroom, and his entire body.

“ _Daddyyyyy_ ,” Hana whines, kicking the seat harder. “You didn’t answer my question!”

Levi grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, then lets out a quiet sigh. “Cuddling,” he replies after a moment. “Special grown-up cuddling.” He waits for her to press the matter further, but Hana seems satisfied with his answer, silently kicking the seat in front of her. “Please stop that, honey,” he says, trying not to grit his teeth. The politeness and endearment still occasionally feel unfamiliar in his mouth; like now, feeling anxious and ashamed and annoyed and, most of all, utterly exhausted at ten in the morning. Eren is picking Hana up this afternoon, he reminds himself. Afterward he will attempt to catch a quick nap (perhaps after a few cups of herbal tea) and pray that he doesn’t catch whatever plague Mikasa has.

The thought sobers him long enough to remember the last time he went to the supermarket with Hana. He lets out a long sigh at the brief flashes of vague, unpleasant memory that appear. The soundtrack to this short film: Hana, wailing. He remembers that part clearly, the rest of the expedition reduced to an unpleasant blur. Grocery shopping with a four-year-old is not so much an errand as it is a balancing act between paying attention to the shopping list and making sure that Hana remains entertained. In the produce section Levi hands over a few grapes for her to munch on, lets her squeeze the package of toilet paper after he places it in the cart next to her, takes her to gawk at the lobsters swimming in their tank at the seafood counter. When her attention is drawn away from the doomed lobsters and toward the hot food station, he pushes the shopping cart over and buys her a hot dog, which Hana chews quietly, occasionally taking sips from a cup of sickly sweet lemonade that they share.

He steers the cart down the next aisle without thinking, already stewing in the myriad things that have gone wrong today. Most stinging is the realization that he could be at home right now, sitting in the backyard with the newspaper and a steaming cup of mint tea like he originally planned for his quiet Saturday. But this is the nature of things, he tells himself; this is what happens when you build a life with someone, and that someone happens to have a tornado for a child. He is almost used to the inconveniences, the plans gone awry; there is almost a consistency in the chaos. He is finding ways to thrive there, has to if he ever intends to give Mikasa the ring he’s stashed in the back of their linen closet. Levi has had it for nearly a month now, still waiting for their schedules to align so that he can take her for a nice dinner before asking her to marry him. He frowns; if he misses his chance tonight, which he most likely will if Mikasa does not make a miraculous recovery, he will not be able to try again for nearly a month.

His increasingly racing thoughts are silenced by an excited cry from Hana; while trapped in his own thoughts, he has unwittingly turned down the toy aisle in the supermarket. The bright colors and shiny plastic catch her attention immediately, as they are designed to do, and she starts to squeal, her green eyes lighting up as she takes in the wares before her.

“Can I get a sword, Daddy?” Hana asks, staring intently at a row of plastic lightsabers.

“No,” he says, his gaze falling upon the toys. “We can play for a little bit, if you want.”

“Sword fight!” she squeals, raising her arms in the air so he can remove her from the cart.

“It’s a lightsaber, Hana.” Levi frowns. “Have you not seen _Star Wars_?”

“What’s that?” she chirps.

“Your mother has failed at raising you,” he says simply, picking her up and placing her on the floor. With a flick of his wrist he unfurls the nested red cylinders of the plastic lightsaber, then hands it to Hana. She presses a button on the hilt and watches with widening eyes as the toy lights up. Hana swings the lightsaber experimentally, her mouth dropping open when she hears the swoosh noise that it makes. She waves the toy around again, faster this time, and it makes a louder noise. Letting out an excited giggle, she starts swinging the lightsaber around, faster, more forcefully, not paying attention to her surroundings until something hard interrupts the trajectory of her toy with a loud thwack.

“Ow!” Levi yelps, his knee buckling as a sharp pain slices through his leg, radiating up into his thigh and down into his shin. He drops to the floor, landing on his knee, and grimaces again at the second jolt of pain, barely keeping himself from roaring in the middle of the supermarket. He turns his head and fixes Hana with a furious stare, his brows knitted in barely concealed fury, then snatches the lightsaber from her hands.

“No more!” he snaps at her, already regretting his sharp tone even as he speaks. Within a moment Hana’s lower lip starts to tremble and her eyes shimmer with tears. “No, don’t cry,” Levi soothes her, pulling her close and hugging her with his free arm, but it is too late. Hana starts to whimper, then quickly moves into great racking sobs.

“I’m so-oo-oo-oo-rrrryyyyyy!” she stammers, her words coming out in thick, wet cries.

“It’s okay, Hana. Just be careful next time,” he tells her, hanging the toy back on its hook so he can rub Hana’s back. His knee throbs; the pain is already starting to recede. He has spent so long in the world of adults, around people with ulterior motives, that it is still sometimes difficult to remind himself that Hana is a child — and a small one at that — and that being angry with her will only upset her and make him look like an unfeeling ogre. Not to mention that it is difficult to be mad at her when he finally lets her go and stands up; she wraps her arms around his injured leg, hugging it, then lifts the hem of his shorts so she can kiss his knee.

“Ugh, that was just on the _floor_ ,” Levi mutters, then immediately regrets his words.

“All better?” Hana asks, looking up at him, clutching his leg as though he is a buoy in stormy waters. Her eyes are still watery and rimmed in red; her cheeks are flushed. A small trail of clear mucus shines between her nose and mouth.

Levi sighs, a smile unconsciously spreading across his face. “All better,” he repeats, crouching down first to wipe her nose with a tissue from his pocket then to pick her up. Once in his arms he rubs his nose against Hana’s now-clean one, then places her back in the cart. She sits there quietly, less exuberant than before, and says very little for the rest of the trip, even dozing off on the ride home.

Hana puts up a small resistance when Levi unbuckles her from her car seat, letting out a low whine and pouting as Levi lifts her into his arms and walks her over to the house. She is heavy in his arms, hanging limply, occasionally whimpering as he fumbles around in his pocket for his house key.

“My tummy hurts,” Hana complains, then starts to cough.

“No, no, don’t be sick,” Levi pleads with her. His hands close around his keys and he shoves the correct one into the door, trying to get inside before anything happens, but he is too late: the door swings open at the exact moment as Hana lets out a warm torrent of lemonade and partially-digested hot dog, cascading over his back, down his shorts, dripping sickeningly onto his bare leg. He gags, his senses overwhelmed by the heat and the smell, then rushes upstairs to find Mikasa.

“YOU DEAL WITH HER,” he roars when he finds her sitting up in bed, half-watching an episode of _Law and Order_. Mikasa’s eyes widen when she sees them, Hana still looking somewhat green, Levi’s face flushed, his clothes covered in vomit. He storms out of the room before she can ask him if he’s okay. It’s fine, though; Mikasa already knows the answer.

* * *

Even from upstairs Mikasa can hear Levi stomping around, slamming the washing machine door, somehow loudly and aggressively putting the groceries away. Knowing his moods, she has about fifteen minutes for Levi to fume before he comes upstairs to flop facedown on their bed, spent and quietly waiting for her to rub his back and run her fingertips over the nape of his neck.

She wishes she had acted while Levi and Hana were out, when she had the house to herself, but after six rounds of throwing up, then dry heaving until her chest ached and her tear-blurred eyes burned, she had only the energy to stumble back to bed. Still, she can find the time to do the deed: Levi is occupied with the groceries and Hana is already dozing, her dark head resting on Levi’s pillow.

Quietly, Mikasa slips out of bed and walks over to the linen closet, opening it and reaching blindly inside for the box she has hidden at the back. After Hana she has always adopted a better safe than sorry approach, keeping a pregnancy test on hand for situations like this one, where she cannot come up with any explanation for her symptoms besides a potential life taking root. She frowns; it is not the right time for her to have another child, but when has it ever been the right time? She was still in college the last time she was in this situation, her knees knocking together in the Yeagers’ downstairs bathroom as she tried to pee on the applicator and not on her hand.

Mikasa takes a deep breath. It has been nearly five years since that day, and things are very different: a spacious house in the suburbs instead of Grisha’s damp basement, a promising career instead of classes and a few shifts a week at the coffee shop on campus, reliable Levi instead of the then-mercurial Eren. But even Eren has changed, working full-time and then some as a union organizer with a promotion looming in his near future, falling into an easy friendship with Levi, co-parenting with Mikasa. She presses one hand to her chest to feel her heart skittering beneath her touch, inhales, feels it slow down a little. (“You’re just pissing on a stick,” she imagines Levi saying, and this is — to her amusement — more comforting than all of the relaxation exercises she knows.)

She resumes her search, getting on her tiptoes and peering into the closet, but the box she seeks is too far back to see. So she leans against the shelf and sticks her arm into the recesses of the closet, groping blindly until her hand closes around a box. It is smaller than expected but solid, with a soft, almost fuzzy texture. Mikasa wrinkles her nose and furrows her brow as she tries to discern what it is by touch; after a few moments, she realizes she can just look at the damn thing. So she draws her arm back with her prize in her clenched fist, a prize that turns out to be a navy blue velvet box, only a couple of inches on each side.

 _Just big enough for a ring_ , she thinks offhandedly, and it takes another couple of seconds for the realization to sink in and for her to freeze, temporarily transfixed by this new development. _Think about it later,_ she tells herself. _You have more pressing concerns_. So she switches the box to her other hand and rummages around until she finally finds the pregnancy test.

It is the blue velvet box that commands her attention, though; Mikasa closes the closet door and inspects it for a moment, then flips the lid open with her thumb. For a moment she forgets to breathe as the diamond ring inside catches the light and sparkles. It is plain, just a simple band with a sizable stone, but it glitters flawlessly even beneath the dim hallway light. Exactly what Levi would pick.

“What the fuck is that?” Mikasa’s head snaps up to see Levi standing before her, eyes wide, pointing at the pregnancy test box in her hand.

“What the fuck is _this_ , Levi?” is response that she blurts out in response, lifting the ring box.

“It’s a puppy. What do you think?” Levi asks gruffly, his face falling into a scowl, then a defeated frown once he sees the blue velvet in Mikasa’s hand.

She sighs, her eyes downcast. Levi looks genuinely sad, not just annoyed or exasperated. “Were you going to propose at dinner tonight?”

Levi sighs. “After,” he admits after a few moments. “The restaurant’s on the river. There’s a walking path—”

“Do it now,” Mikasa barks, tossing the pregnancy test on the floor.

He narrows his eyes at her, nods at the discarded box. “What are you doing? Pick that up.”

“It can wait,” she insists.

“Whether or not I got you pregnant cannot wait,” he says.

Mikasa sighs. “Can you propose first? I don’t want you to propose just because I’m pregnant.“

“Really?” He frowns, unused to this kind of naked vulnerability from her.

"Eren said we should get married when he found out I was pregnant with Hana. He didn’t mean it, obviously.”

“I’ve had this ring for a long-ass time,” Levi replies.

She purses her lips. “I know it’s stupid. Humor me.”

“Fine. You want your proposal, you pick up the box.” Levi pretends to look serious, but a small smile appears at the corners of his mouth.

“Fine,” she says with a smirk, picking up the box and placing it in on a shelf in the closet. “Now it’s your turn.”

Levi takes a deep breath, exhaling so hard that the dark strands that hang in his face temporarily sway in the small breeze. He gets down on one knee, grimaces when he lands directly on the sore spot on his knee. He shifts his weight and gets down on the other knee instead, then opens the ring box and offers it to her.

“Mikasa, I—”

“ _Yes!_ ” she cries, her voice breaking on that single syllable. Levi’s face spreads into a grin and he pulls the ring from its box and places it on her left ring finger. Mikasa yanks him to his feet and enfolds him in a crushing hug, sniffling as a few stray tears escape her eyes.

He presses his lips to her ear. “Thank god you said yes,” he tells her. “I didn’t have anything planned beyond that.”

Mikasa giggles softly. “I wanted to shut you up before you said something horrible.”

Levi wraps his arms around her and squeezes as hard as he can, hoping his embrace is a better communication than his words. After a few moments, he dislodges himself from her and grabs the pregnancy test, holding it out for her. “Now go piss on this.”

It takes three minutes for the blue line on the test to darken. Three more minutes elapse before Levi can speak, overwhelmed by the joy and the fear that, at thirty-six, he is going to be a father.

* * *

“Go get in the car, honey,” Eren says, taking Hana’s backpack from her. She runs past him, her shoes slapping against the concrete driveway. Eren looks over his shoulder to find his daughter boosting herself up onto the hood of his car, using his front tire as a stepstool. “Hana!” he snaps. “In the car, not on the car!” Hana lets out a whine, then jumps off the hood and lands on the concrete, falling onto her hands and knees before scrambling to her feet. “She is going to be a handful this weekend. I can already feel it.”

Levi sighs. “If all she’s doing is running around, then you’re getting off easy. She puked all over me today.”

Eren snorts. “Call me when you’re in the ten-timers club.”

“Seriously, I’ve had the worst day. Hana woke me up and scared the shit out of me, then Mikasa puked on me, Hana kneecapped me with a toy lightsaber and _then_ puked on me—”

“Mikasa puked on you?” Eren thinks for a moment, tries to recall all the other times he’s seen Mikasa that sick, then freezes as realization strikes him like a sharp blow. “You knocked her up, didn’t you?”

Levi gapes at him for a moment. “How could you _possibly_ know?”

Eren grits his teeth and spreads his lips into a bashful rictus. “Her boobs looked huge when I saw her last week. That was the first thing that happened when she was pregnant with Hana.”

“That’s my fiancée you’re talking about,” Levi warns him with just enough of a smile to let him know he’s joking.

“You asked her?” Eren gasps. “Before or after you found out you put a baby in her?”

“Before,” Levi replies. “She wouldn’t take the test until I asked her.”

Eren laughs. “Sounds like Mikasa. So when’s the big day?”

“Eren, we’ve been engaged for like half an hour and I just found out I’m having a kid. Give me a little time to come down from all these life-altering revelations before asking me about wedding plans, okay?”

“All right, all right,” Eren says, putting his hands up. “But I do get to be best man, right?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Levi says, laughing.


End file.
